


In the Shadow of Triumph

by wingedknightRose



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gender-Neutral Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Líf is referred to as Alfonse but I promise it's Líf, Summoner is unnamed, alternate universe - Líf gets what he wants, death-induced memory issues, lifonse is Not Okay and no one is okay with this, same deal with Thrasir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedknightRose/pseuds/wingedknightRose
Summary: “Alfonse?” Sharena managed, “What happened to us? Why were we—why were we in the crypts?”Alfonse inhaled sharply, going very, very stiff for a moment. He let the breath out slowly, clearly forcing himself to relax. “I…I broke my promise to you both. I couldn’t protect you…” He shook his head. “But I’ll fix it. This time, I will not fail. I swear it.”The Summoner and Sharena wake to an empty Askr and a changed Alfonse.
Relationships: Bruno | Zacharias & Sharon | Sharena, Bruno | Zacharias & Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Líf & Sharon | Sharena, Líf/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Sharon | Sharena & Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Kudos: 3





	In the Shadow of Triumph

**Cold.**

Coldcoldcold why was it so cold? The Summoner couldn’t remember it being this cold before, not even in Nifl. Cold, and silent, and full of a dull, aching pain. Breathing hurt, every inhale was shallow and set their throat on fire. Beneath them was something unyielding and unpleasant, leaving their back aching. Despite this, they couldn’t find the strength in them to move. Not to twitch, or open their eyes, or take a breath deeper than the barest of inhales. So they just…lay there. In the cold, aching.

Gradually they became more aware of things. They were laying down on something solid, hard and icy and uncomfortable. There was no light filtering through their eyelids. The air was completely still. But there was noise from somewhere nearby - the raspy, shallow breathing of someone else, over to the side. They weren’t alone.

Slowly, slowly their body began to respond to their will. They could twitch their fingers, and feel them tapping on their chest. The cloth they felt was familiar. Their old cloak? A little later, and they could move their feet — wiggling their toes made it clear they were wearing their boots. Gradually their eyes flickered open - only to be met with complete darkness. Dark, cold, and still - where were they? Panic began to prickle at them. What was going on? Their head lolled to one side, then the other - nothing. They could feel their heart beginning to hammer, their breath rasping against their throat.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a burst of coughing — deep, rough coughing from someone that just couldn’t get enough air in their lungs. They jolted and jerked in place at the sound, turning to try and see who it was only to be met with black. Gritting their teeth, they attempted to roll over, to get in a position where they could push themselves up and maybe even get to their feet.

It hurt.

Spikes of pain spasmed through their muscles as they attempted to put weight on them. They cried out softly, hand slipping away as their arm gave out. It knocked away several soft things — at least, it felt like it did, though there was only the faintest rustling noise — and then slipped off the edge of whatever it was they were laying on, dangling uselessly in the air. Their fingers traced against the side of their perch. It felt like…stone? Smooth, carved stone, with a design weaving around itself all along where they could reach.

The coughing abated, fading into pained, raspy breathing. Whoever it was, they weren’t in any better shape than they felt.

After a moment to steel themselves against the coming pain, they tried to bring their hand up and brace it on the edge, to sit up. Again their strength failed them, but this time, their weight shifted too much as their hand slipped and they were sent toppling off of whatever it was they were on and crashing to the floor in a heap. The landing ignited pain everywhere; what had been a dull, constant ache was now an insistent throbbing that was hard to push past. They curled in on themselves, whimpering, shuddering with the cold and the pain. The floor felt like stone, too, and that fall had been a few feet — where in the world _were_ they?

The raspy breath hitched for a moment, and then, “Are you…alright?”

They knew that voice, for all it was soft and scratchy and stilted, like the owner hadn’t used it in years. “Sha…rena?”

The Askran princess breathed out their name, or tried to, but it was lost in another coughing fit.

They uncurled, shifting to place their hands under them and _heaving_. Their body screamed in pain — they keened quietly with it, but forced themselves to keep going. Sharena needed them. They needed her, too, needed to make sure she was _there_ and not some hallucination brought on by this endless black. With a gargantuan effort, they pushed themselves up from the ground until they were sitting. Then they grasped blindly at the stone they had fallen from, tracing their fingers up the design until they found the edge, and shifted to put all their weight on it. Their arm gave out halfway through once again, but they managed to fall so that their elbow landed on the stone - though it meant the edge jabbed into their side in a way that was sure to leave a large, aching bruise.

Panting with the effort, they heaved again, until finally, _finally_ they managed to get one foot under them. The other followed, and slowly they straightened, leaning heavily on the stone slab they’d been laying on just a few minutes ago. Their head was spinning, and they were sure that if they could see anything their vision would be blurry. Why couldn’t they see anything? Was it that dark, or had they gone blind somehow?

They stood, swaying in place, for a few moments before they felt confident enough to try and walk. “Sharena? Where…are you? I can’t—can’t see anything.” Their own voice sounded distorted to their ears. How long had it been since they’d last used it? How long since they’d stood up and walked, or eaten, or had so much as a drop of water? They couldn’t remember the last time they’d done any of that clearly. Last they knew, they’d been in a battle against…against death. Against Hel. They’d tried the only thing they could find, desperate to turn the tides, and…and…they couldn’t remember. They’d tried to bring the fight to her, hadn’t they? Eir had offered to be their guide. They’d marched through the gate, pressed towards her palace, and…they couldn’t remember. Had they reached it? How had that battle gone?

And how had that lead to them being here?

“Over—over here,” Sharena rasped from somewhere to their left, “I’m over here. I can’t—I can’t see anything either.”

Turning, they hobbled their way over, one shuffling step at a time. They swayed dangerously, reaching out blindly before them to try and keep from crashing into anything. For a few long, agonizing moments, there was nothing. Then their knee knocked against another slab of stone. They pitched forward slightly, one hand grabbing the edge of the slab and the other landing on something softer. A knee? Sharena yelped in surprise.

“Sorry! S-sorry.” They made to pull their hand away, but another landed on their arm to stop them.

“It’s—it’s okay,” Sharena assured them, pained though her voice was, “you just—startled me, that’s—that’s all.”

The hand wrapped around their arm, and then another, and then pulled — they tipped, catching themselves on the edge of the stone to keep from falling on top of their friend — and Sharena dragged herself up. Something rustled around them as she moved, slowly twisting so that her legs slipped off the edge and bumped into their side.

“Careful. It’s a bit—bit of a drop.”

“R—right.”

Sharena lowered herself onto her feet, clinging to them the whole time. She was shivering, and cold — like she’d been out in Nifl’s winter with too few layers on and now couldn’t get warm again. Whatever she was wearing felt soft and smooth and almost delicate — certainly not the armor they last recalled seeing her in.

They huddled together for a moment, each trying not to fall over and drag the other down, when a great noise echoed down from somewhere nearby. They both gasped, Sharena’s grip on their arm tightening, as they turned towards the noise on instinct. They saw nothing.

And then…in the distance, a faint pale blue light. They squinted at it — even that faint light made their eyes ache and burn. They must have been in the dark for some time now.

The light began to grow stronger. They turned to Sharena, and froze for a moment. Their friend was gaunt, haggard — dark circles under dull eyes and thin cheeks too pale to look right. Her hair was loose and limp. Sharena had never been so unhealthy before. Had they been sick? Is that why they both looked and felt so horrible?

There was no time to ponder that dark thought. The light was growing, and now they could hear the echo of armored boots on stone steps. Whoever it was, they were getting closer.

They stared at Sharena, and Sharena stared at them. Without a word, they each pulled the other down behind the stone slab she’d been resting on, huddling together and hoping that whoever it was wasn’t hostile — and if they were, that they didn’t notice them. Neither of them were in any state to run, much less fight. The steps grew louder, faster. Whoever it was was in a rush to get down here.

The light grew bright enough that they could see where they were as the steps stopped in what they could only assume was the doorway. Glancing around, they realized with a jolt down their spine that they were in a crypt. The stone slabs they’d each been resting on — those had been biers, where the dead lay in state. Flowers were scattered around, fresh ones, in all the varieties that they and Sharena loved. Why were the two of them in a crypt? Why had they been treated like they were dead? Had they been buried alive? Why? Sharena curled closer to them, fingers digging into their arm, just as confused and scared as they were.

“Gone…?”

The person — a man, by the pitch of his voice — spoke. He sounded familiar, terribly so. But there was a raw note in his tone, an edge of desperation, that threw them off. 

“They can’t be gone. _They can’t._ ” The desperate edge intensified, became panicked, _manic_. “I did what I was supposed to, they have to be here. Where are they? Where, where, _where?_ ” The man paced, muttering to himself, increasingly distressed. They exchanged a puzzled look with Sharena. Then their attention snapped back to the stranger as he raised his voice and called their name. It echoed around the crypt, broken and longing, so heartfelt it made their breath catch in their throat. One of Sharena’s hands came to her mouth to muffle the slightest gasp. The man continued to speak, voice cracking. “Sharena? Where are you? Please…”

He turned towards the bier the Summoner had been resting on, hand tracing the edge, displacing some of the flowers that lingered there even after they had tumbled off of it. He was clearly trying to figure out which way they had gone, even as he kept speaking. “There’s nothing to be worried about, I promise. _Please._ ”

They turned to Sharena, who stared back with wide eyes. Some of the fear and anxiety had given way to confusion — had she recognized his voice, as well? They glanced over at the figure, still turned mostly away from them, silhouette traced out in that blue light, and then back to their friend. She set her mouth in a determined line, and nodded. Her hands pulled away from their arm and instead reached for the edge of the stone.

With a deep breath they moved to haul themselves up. Their arms trembled under their weight, and a whimper slipped past their lips, echoing loudly in the crypt around them.

The stranger spun around to face them, and they winced away from the light, a hand rising to shield their eyes. It wasn’t bright, but it was still enough to make their vision blur. How long had they been in the dark?

Swift footsteps were their only warning before they were pulled into a crushing embrace. Cold arms pressed them into an armored torso, and something sharp — a helmet? — nuzzled into their hair. He said their name with such utter relief and adoration that it made their heart stutter. He shuddered against them, breath hitching as he clung to them as a drowning man would a rock.

Sharena called their name, and the man jerked at the sound of her voice, head snapping up to find her struggling to pull herself to her feet. He tucked them against his side with one arm, the other reaching out to effortlessly pull their friend up and into the embrace.

_“Sharena.”_ His voice broke as he breathed out her name. “You’re here…you’re both here…I’ve missed you both so much, _so much…_ ” His voice broke into a sob, and they could swear he was weeping softly, clinging to the both of them as if his life depended on it. Tentatively, Sharena lifted her own arms and returned the hug. The Summoner followed her lead uncertainly, snaking one arm under the great fur cape and the other around their friend. The man tightened his grip, his shaking with relieves sobs, as if he had not believed them to be real until they had returned his affections. Somehow it felt…right. Like this was something they had done many times before. Yes, they had. Them, Sharena, and…

They stood there like that for a few minutes, him clinging to the two of them and them unable to do anything but let him. Slowly their eyes adjusted to the light, which was coming from the figure that held them. They shifted a bit, turning their head to look, only to be met with the sight of the man’s ribs. Not sticking out of any ghastly wound, but suspended in a faintly glowing blue…something, without muscle or sinew or anything. Come to think of it, the man was completely bereft of warmth. They had thought it armor, but—

Armor did not let one see the wearer’s ribcage.

The Summoner made a noise of distress as they jerked back away from the man, just slightly. What was going on? Their memories immediately prior to ending up here might be missing, but they were pretty sure they’d never summoned a Hero with a visible skeleton! Why was this man so attached to them? To Sharena? Why did his grip around their body tighten automatically when they tried to pull away?

Sharena followed their gaze, and gasped in alarm. She, too, tried to back up — and his grip tightened, just enough to keep her in place.

“Don’t worry. I know — I know it’s alarming, but there’s nothing to be concerned about, I promise.” The man was quick to try and soothe them, voice still cracking from his weeping, that desperate edge still there.

They turned up to look at him, leaning back both to get a better look at his face and to get away. That metal thing hadn’t been a helmet, but a ghastly mask, made to look like the fangs of some horrific creature. What wasn’t covered by the mask was shrouded in shadows — but they could make out too-pale skin and dark, dark eyes. His hair fell over his face with little care beyond keeping it out of his eyes — it was dark, except for the very tips of his bangs, which were a dull gray.

Dark hair with pale tips…but no, that couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be.

He stared back at them, gaze entreating. “It’s alright. It’s just me.”

They pulled their arms away, slowly reaching up to trace the mask with shaking fingers. Carefully they tugged it away from his face. It was still coated in shadows, but — the curve of his jaw, the way his lips curled in a smile. The way he said their name with such gentle concern.

The mask clattered to the ground, dropped from numb fingers. Their voice came out as barely a whisper.

_“Alfonse?!”_

“Yes,” he replied, voice still gentle and calm, just as it always was when they weren’t on a mission. His smile grew, his shoulders loosening, eyes still bright with tears. “I’m sorry for startling you both.”

Sharena found her voice while they stared at their prince in mute shock and horror. “Alfonse? What…what happened to you?”

Alfonse gave them a reassuring smile, the same as he always did when he wanted to soothe their fears, to let them know that everything would be okay. “This is just…something I have to deal with, in exchange for the power to save you. To save everyone.” His grip tightened a little bit more, and the Summoner winced as his clawed gauntlets began to dig into their already bruised side. “It’s only for a little while, and then things will go back to normal. You don’t need to worry about it, I promise.”

They made a noise of disbelief. “Alfonse, I can see your ribs! You—you look like—”

He leaned over, letting his forehead rest on theirs as a gesture of comfort. “In order to save everyone from death, I’ve had to traverse the land of the dead. I have it under control. I will be alright, I swear to you.”

Sharena inhaled sharply, even as she began to shake. They felt like crying themselves, or screaming, or _something,_ because this was so wrong — but though their eyes burned, no tears would come. They might have pulled away, but Alfonse’s grip was a vice they couldn’t break if they tried. It was as if he was afraid that he would lose them if he let them go for even a moment.

He turned to his sister, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “Please don’t be upset…” Sharena just shook her head, shuddering in place from cold and despair. What had happened, to drive Alfonse to this? How could he be so calm about it?

What had _happened_ to them? Alfonse looked like…he looked like _Hel._ The thought alone made their stomach churn, even without trying to puzzle through how it had come to be.

Seeing their distress, Alfonse sighed, gently stepping away from the bier and pulling them with him. “Come on. Let’s get you both out of here.”

* * *

The royal castle of Askr was lifeless.

It wasn’t an exaggeration. The place was empty. It was creepy, like a horror movie waiting to happen. It looked much the same as last they remembered it, only dustier. Like it had just been straight up abandoned. No sign of servants going about their business. No guards on patrols. Not a single soul beyond the three of them.

When they’d emerged from the crypts, the Summoner and Sharena had both had to shield their eyes from the light. It was an overcast day, more towards evening, really, but it was still so much brighter than they were used to. Alfonse had gently led them into the keep proper, wrapping them both up in his fur cloak when he’d seen how they’d been shivering. He’d taken them through the halls, half-carrying them up the flights of stairs, until they had at last come to the royal apartments. He’d left them in Sharena’s suite, telling them that he’d be back with food and water and to stay put and not strain themselves. It was a very Alfonse thing to do, to worry over them and fetch everything for them. It would have been comforting, had the circumstance been anything but what they were.

“Where is everyone…?” Sharena whispered, sinking closer to the Summoner on instinct. They could only shake their head in wordless confusion, tugging Alfonse’s fur cloak tighter around the both of them. “There should be someone here, right…? Someone had to be cleaning this room…”

The Summoner glanced around at that. Sharena’s room _was_ clean. At least, cleaner than the rest of the castle. There was still a bit of dust on everything, but someone had clearly let the room air out recently. There was wood in the fireplace, waiting to be lit; the bed had been covered to keep the sheets pristine. Someone had anticipated this room being used soon. Everywhere else there was a coat of dust so thick they could see their footprints in it, grime on the windows, and just a feeling of stagnation. As if the castle itself were dead.

“This is the only room this clean, though,” they murmured in return, less out of a need to be quiet and more an incapability of being any louder. Speaking hurt, with how dry their throat was.

“We haven’t _seen_ everywhere else, though. Alfonse’s room is probably just as neat. He always keeps it clean…”

They winced at the mention of Alfonse, fidgeting with the cloak. “Do you remember how we got here? Or why he’s…y’know…” They didn’t want to say it out loud. It bad enough without their words making it more real.

Sharena shook her head slowly. “We were…going to fight Hel? We’d gone through the gate, and wanted to end things quickly, but…”

“You don’t remember actually fighting her, either?”

Sharena shook her head again. “No. I remember…I remember being worried about Eir. She was acting weird. And then something happened…” Her voice cracked a little, and she let her head drop on their shoulder. “It’s weird, I can’t remember what it was, but I know it was awful. Alfonse was so worried…I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that scared before.”

The Summoner made a noise of confusion, even as they leaned their head on hers. “I don’t remember what happened either, but I remember being terrified. Then I think we came back to Askr and did some kind of rite? It was supposed to help…we were going to use it against her, but…” They let that hang in the air between them, before taking as deep a breath as they could manage and continuing on. “I…don’t think we won.”

The statement was heavy in the silence.

“Do you think we…died?” Sharena sounded scared. They couldn’t blame her — they were scared too. Who wouldn’t be afraid of their own death? “B-But we can’t have. We’re still here.”

“…Why were we in the crypts, though?” The Summoner breathed out, trying to beat back the memory of waking up on cold stone and failing. “That’s not—not a place you put someone sick or injured.”

Sharena had no response to that.

It wasn’t long before Alfonse returned, a bag of supplies in hand. The food was all the sorts of things they’d eat on the march, the water in skeins, but it was more than they’d had. The pair of them took the water gratefully, and the prince had to remind them to drink slowly so as not to choke. Alfonse started a fire in the fireplace and began to cook them stew, as if they were on the road. Sharena shared a glance with them, both of them frowning, before she spoke up. “…Alfonse? Is there no one in the kitchens?” Her voice sounded better now that she’d had something to drink, but it was still scratchy and raw.

Alfonse went still for a moment, before shaking his head. “Unfortunately not. But that’s okay. I came prepared.”

“Is there…anyone else here at all?” Sharena’s voice wavered, like she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to hear the answer.

“Not right now, no,” Alfonse replied carefully, “but that won’t be true for long, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have enough supplies in the meantime.” He turned and gave them a rueful smile — it was wrong to see red-brown eyes on his face, but the way they crinkled at the edges when he smiled was still the same — and continued in that apologetic tone he used whenever he was asking something of them that he knew they wouldn’t like. “I’ll have to leave you two here for a little while. Just a few days, I promise. But you—I can’t risk either of you getting hurt.”

That was also a very Alfonse sort of thing, to want to keep them both out of harm’s way. If the way he’d broken down when he’d first found them was any indication, he had more reason to fear something bad happening than before. But…wouldn’t leaving them here, in this state, be more of a risk? They wouldn’t be able to defend themselves if something went wrong. While they might have understood leaving them here if the castle were as it should have been, as it was now it would just be leaving them open. What if Hel came for them? How could Alfonse be sure she wouldn’t? He can’t have forgotten that threat…

The thoughts were cut off as the smell of stew began to permeate the room, making their stomach ache. How long had it been since they’d eaten?

“Alfonse?” Sharena managed, arms wrapped around her own aching stomach. She seemed to be trying to distract herself from her own ravenous hunger. “What happened to us? Why were we—why were we in the crypts?”

Alfonse inhaled sharply, going very, very stiff for a moment. He let the breath out slowly, clearly forcing himself to relax. “I…I broke my promise to you both. I couldn’t protect you…” He shook his head. “But I’ll fix it. This time, I will not fail. _I swear it._ ”

The Summoner swallowed roughly, before finding their voice. “…How?”

Alfonse blinked, before turning to give them a tight smile. “Nothing too difficult, I promise. It will just take some time.”

That didn’t answer the question. But the look on his face made it clear he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Something about his eyes — it _scared_ them, in a way they’d never thought to associate with Alfonse before. They’d seen him angry, furious even — but this was something different. Something almost…manic. _Unhinged._ It sent a chill up their spine.

Alfonse blinked, and just like that, the weird look was gone, replaced with his typical care and concern. “Are you still cold?”

They nodded, movements jerky. They didn’t know what else to do but act like they hadn’t seen anything. That was terrifying in its own right — when had they ever felt safer keeping something from Alfonse? They had trusted him with everything. Now they couldn’t shake the feeling that if they tried to confront him about it it would go… _badly._

Sharena’s hand found theirs, her fingers squeezing tightly. Had she seen it too?

“The stew will be done soon. That will help.” Alfonse assured them. They nodded, forcing a shaky smile. He clearly saw how nervous and unsettled they were — his brows furrowed in concern — but he must have thought it was just their general discomfort at being cold and sore and hungry, because he let it go.

They were grateful that he did.

* * *

When they woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows, the Summoner felt just a little bit more _alive_. The thick blankets had done wonders for warming them up, and they felt worlds better just for having had that stew. They were still sore and weak, yes, but now it felt like they could actually recover. They blinked against the light, groaning a bit in protest at the way it stung their eyes. Something beside them shifted, and they felt a sigh against their shoulder.

Glancing to one side, they found Sharena laying next to them, still asleep. That’s right, they remembered now — they’d both curled up in her bed after they’d finished their dinner, because they were too tired to try and find another one for the Summoner to sleep in. She looked better now, too — there was a flush to her cheeks again, gaunt as they were, and she wasn’t quite so deathly pale. She still looked like she had been terribly sick recently (and they were sure they didn’t look much better) but she was clearly alive.

“Did you sleep well?”

Turning to look at their other side, they found Alfonse sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching them with a gentle, loving smile. It still sent a jolt of shock and maybe even panic through them, to look at their prince and see dark armor and bones, but they fought it down. He’d retrieved his mask at some point, they noted dully, it was sitting innocently on the bedside table. Realizing that he was waiting for an answer, the Summoner gave him a slight nod as they found their voice. “Y-yeah. I feel much better now.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Alfonse’s voice was so painfully sincere, and so _relieved_ , that it made them pause. He was acting like he expected their condition to take a turn for the worst at any moment. Like he was terrified he was going to watch them die. They must have really looked like death warmed over when he’d found them.

…They tried not to think about that for too long.

Instead, they fell back on the familiar. “How ‘bout you? Did you get any sleep?” Sleeping in a chair couldn’t have been comfortable.

“I got some rest, don’t worry.” That answer…felt like it was deflecting.

“You know the more you say that, the more I’m gonna worry, right?” Alfonse laughed lightly at that, knowing full well that they both fretted over the other something chronic. He didn’t bother to reply, though, instead just shaking his head as he stood up.

“I’ll get breakfast started. You can just relax.”

“You sure you don’t want help?” The Summoner asked, watching as their prince began setting things up over the fire, just like he had last night. “I feel kind of bad, making you do all the work…”

“Please, don’t. I’m always happy to take care of you.” He tossed them a smile over his shoulder, even as he pulled some eggs out of a small coldbox he’d brought. Omelets for breakfast, then. He’d always been proud of how his omelets turned out, said that he’d never learned much cooking as a prince but he had managed to get that one down. “Besides, Sharena is still asleep. I’d hate to wake her up when she looks so comfortable.”

They glanced over at Sharena, still tucked against their side. Alfonse probably couldn’t see it from the angle he was at, but her brows were furrowed, and her mouth pulled into a frown. Her grip on them was pretty tight, too. Even sleep hadn’t been enough to drive away her anxiety about all of this. But how could Alfonse have missed it when he was sitting right next to them? Maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to it since he knew Sharena wouldn’t want them to worry about her. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it.

Maybe they were just overthinking it.

Silence reigned as Alfonse began to cook breakfast. The Summoner wanted to think of it as a comfortable silence, the sort they had shared so often before all of…this, but there was an edge of something that made it anything but. Did Alfonse feel it to? If he did, he gave no sign, focused as he was on making sure they had something to eat. They couldn’t bring themselves to ask, too tired to fight the battle to get an answer out of the stubborn prince and too scared of what that answer would be to want to have it.

So they dozed instead, watching sleepily as Alfonse went about things. It wasn’t until their prince seated himself on the bed beside them that they came back to themselves, blinking slowly awake as he chuckled at the sleepy noise they made.

“Come on, eat. No starving yourself — you promised.” There was that fond glint in his eye. They had promised him that they would take better care of themselves, years ago, when they’d been trudging through Nifl. He’d held them to it, gently prodding whenever it seemed they might resist. This was just like back then. Maybe…maybe they were just being afraid of nothing, and Alfonse was still the same. Maybe he was avoiding telling them how things had happened to avoid sending them into a blind panic. That was something he’d do.

Slowly they extracted themselves from Sharena’s hold, pushing themselves up so they were sitting upright, back resting against the headboard. Alfonse passed them the plate — he had, in fact, made them an omelet, how did they guess — and set another plate on the bedside table, presumably for Sharena. The Summoner’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you eating something?”

“I’m not hungry.”

They shifted nervously, unhappy with the reminder that something was _wrong_ with their prince. He’d said it wouldn’t be for very long, though. He’d never led them astray before…they would just have to believe him. As much as thinking about it made their stomach churn.

Alfonse seemed to pick up on their distress — he wound an arm around their shoulders and gently pulled them to his side, pressing a kiss to their temple. “I know it worries you, but I swear to you, I have it under control. Please, just trust me.”

“…I do. But…” They trailed off, staring at the meal in front of them. Alfonse hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind their ear, clearly waiting for them to continue. “I’m just…worried. Like you said.”

Another kiss. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t be for long. Now please, eat. You promised.”

They nodded slowly, accepting his words for what they were. He clearly knew what all was going on, and how this was happening, and… Alfonse had always had their best interests at heart. They could trust in that. Slowly, they let themselves lean into him, and then took fork in hand and began to eat. Another hum reverberated through Alfonse’s chest, content. If they ignored how cold he was, and how he was still in that strange dark armor, they could almost pretend this was a normal morning.

But he was cold, and clingy, too. Alfonse had always had a keen sense of personal space - theirs or his own, they didn’t know - but he rarely stayed so close to them for so long, especially with another person in the room. Doubly so when that person was Sharena; he was always talking about how much he dreaded her teasing! But now Alfonse had pulled them close and would not let go. They squirmed a bit, and he loosened his grip just enough to allow them to readjust and get comfortable, and then his arm around them tightened once more, clawed gauntlets just beginning to dig into their flesh. Not enough to make them bleed, but…almost. He leaned into them, nosing into their hair, their shoulder flush against his chest. It would have been comfortable, except his armor was pointy and the transparent skin (was it even skin?) felt wrong, even through their shirt.

They forced themselves to eat, trying to ignore the way their stomach twisted. They _had_ promised.

* * *

Alfonse stayed for a full three days, carefully nursing them back to health. Three days wasn’t enough for them to be back to normal, mind. But it was enough that they could move about on their own and fix their own meals. He answered exactly none of the questions they had about what was going on, instead constantly reassuring them that he had it under control and asking them to trust him. The Summoner wanted to scream at him - which was a first and they _didn’t like it_ \- because for all Alfonse kept telling them to trust him, he was showing a uncharacteristically small amount of trust in them in turn. Did he think they couldn’t handle it? That Sharena couldn’t handle it? They’d faced Embla together, challenged Surtr together, marched into Hel together. Why couldn’t they do this together, too?

They understood why Sharena used to complain that it felt like Alfonse didn’t think she was capable, now.

He had tended to just about everything for them - from cleaning dishes to finding clean clothes for them to wear to drawing baths. Even the servants had not waited on them with the thoroughness that Alfonse was exhibiting. In a moment of relaxation, when things almost seemed okay, the Summoner had joked about how Alfonse was spoiling them. He had given them a strange, guilty look then, and whispered that it was the least he could do after failing them so terribly. He had refused to elaborate further, no matter how much the Summoner pressed. But he had been quiet and distant for the rest of the day - until evening, when he’d grown more clingy than ever.

They never saw him eat. As far as they knew, he never slept, either. He never took that armor off, just that horrible mask and his fur cloak.

Midmorning of the forth day, he’d told them he needed to leave.

“Where are you going?” Sharena sat up straighter. “We’ll come with you!”

Alfonse shook his head. “You’re not well enough to travel, Sharena,” he replied gently, slinging the cloak over his shoulders, securing it with that skull he was wearing as a pauldron. Why was he walking around with a skull strapped to him like that? The Summoner was getting tired of wondering what was going on. “I won’t be gone for long. A week, at most. Gods willing, it will be less.”

“…We aren’t well enough to travel, but you’ll leave us here by ourselves?” The Summoner gripped the sides of their cloak, hands twisting a bit. “What if an attack comes?”

A clawed gauntlet landed on their shoulder, squeezing gently. “There won’t be. I’ve made sure of it.”

“How? We couldn’t…couldn’t predict Hel’s movements before, no matter how much we tried. How do you know she won’t come for us now?”

“Hel is…distracted. I’ve drawn her attention somewhere else. Her forces have pulled back from our world. You have no reason to fear an attack, not now.”

“How did you manage _that?_ ” The Summoner whispered, shocked. What sort of distraction had Alfonse pulled? Even that rite they’d performed hadn’t slowed her down. Had it? They couldn’t remember what happened after the rite had been performed…

He half-turned away from them, stiffening just slightly. He always did that when he was feeling guilty about something. At least that hadn’t changed. “It…wasn’t terribly difficult. She believes this world to be dead, and thus no longer worth her attention. I am simply…neglecting to disabuse her of that notion.”

The Summoner glanced over at Sharena, frowning. The world _was_ dead. Or at least, the castle was. Maybe someone elsewhere was okay? Surely not _everyone_ could be gone…

“What about Princess Eir?” Sharena asked, concern coloring her tone. “After everything she’d been through…”

“Princess Eir is…helping me.” Alfonse still wasn’t looking at them. He’d turned towards them, sure, but he wasn’t looking at either the Summoner or Sharena - he was staring just _above_ them. They might not have noticed, except that they’d pulled that same trick so many times before. Doubtlessly Sharena had noticed, too. She knew her brother too well _not_ to.

“You’re not putting her in danger, are you?” Sharena frowned, hands wringing a bit in worry. “I know she was willing, but—”

“She’s safe, I swear.” Now he was looking at them again. They couldn’t see a lie in his expression. “She will come back with me before all of this is over. We have a promise to her to keep, after all.” His lips quirked in a smile, face softening with the expression. Sharena nodded, humming in agreement. Well, it was good that Eir was okay, at least, but still.

“Is it…just the two of you? You and Eir?” The Summoner’s grip on their coat tightened, such that distantly they feared they would tear the fabric. The Order operated in teams of four. Alfonse was talented, but he wasn’t without weaknesses. Eir could counter some of them, but she was fragile compared to others that the Summoner had commanded. Working together would mitigate some of that risk…but if it was just the two of them, it would be easy for them to be overrun.

“Princess Veronica is also helping me,” Alfonse replied, hand drifting to cup their cheek. “She’s been an invaluable ally, and would have come to see the both of you, except she had something to take care of elsewhere. Perhaps next time? But I won’t be alone out there, don’t worry.”

“I’ll worry all I damn well please and you can’t stop me,” the Summoner muttered, though their fingers loosened slightly. They pressed their face further into Alfonse’s hand, considering. Whatever their differences had been before, Veronica had been a stalwart ally against Hel. She was a powerful mage, and was perfect to pair with Alfonse - they easily covered each others’ weaknesses. If they couldn’t be with him, then having Veronica watching his back was a good alternative. As long as that family curse didn’t get in the way…but the threat of Embla being decimated had seemed to be enough to keep it from acting up. Who knew, maybe when all this was over, Askr and Embla could be at peace. That would be nice. The Summoner was honestly forgetting what peace was like.

Alfonse laughed, leaning forwards to press a gentle kiss to their brow. “Of course. At least do me the favor of not losing sleep over it. You miss enough as it is.”

The Summoner rolled their eyes and made a dramatic show of pouting. “Well, since you asked, I _guess_ I can do that…” Alfonse laughed again, and leaned down obligingly when they tugged on his collar so they could place a peck on his lips. He hummed in pure contentment, fingers tightening in their hair for a moment before he stepped away and moved to wrap Sharena in a hug that looked like it might crack bone. She let out a squeak of surprise, which quickly changed to a giggle when Alfonse swung her around just a little bit — apparently that had been something he’d started doing when they were small, and had kept doing it ever since — and she returned the hug just as fiercely.

He bid them one final farewell, scooped up his mask from where it had been sitting for the past few days, and donned it. The change was dramatic - the fangs of the mask made him look monstrous, especially when combined with the visible skeleton, skull pauldron, and general edgy aesthetic. If they didn’t know it was their prince underneath it all, they might have found it frightening. But it was Alfonse, and they couldn’t be scared of him. Alfonse only ever wanted to keep them safe.

They weren’t scared of him, but the way his eyes began to glow an unsettling red and narrowed into a look that promised murder as he shut the door behind him had them considering it.

* * *

With Alfonse gone, it finally sunk in how _quiet_ everything was.

When Alfonse had been there, things hadn’t been _loud_ per say, but there had been enough to distract them from the unnatural silence. The first couple of days, while the Summoner and Sharena had been mostly confined to bed, he had found books to read to them, old tales he claimed he and Sharena had loved as children. The siblings had debated their favorites, teasing each other for their choices and playfully entreating the Summoner to take their side. It had been warm and happy and had probably done them as much good as the warm food and bed had. Even when there wasn’t any kind of active conversation going on, there had been noise - food cooking, Sharena snoring (something she vehemently denied doing, much to the Summoner and Alfonse’s mutual amusement), the crackling of fire, Alfonse humming softly to himself - there had never been real silence.

Now Alfonse was gone, and it felt like he’d taken the noise with him. It was eerie, how quiet the castle was. The Summoner wasn’t familiar with what the royal palace of Askr _should_ sound like, but they did know the Order’s keep. Conversation, the clack of training weapons, the sounds of horses and pegasi and wyverns and cats and dogs and all the rest, footsteps as people went too and fro - the keep had not always been loud, but it had never been _silent_. This was beginning to unnerve them.

It was unnerving Sharena, too. She’d taken to singing when they weren’t actively talking to one another. Eventually the Summoner had asked her to teach them the songs, so they could join in, and even taught her a few songs from their world. That had been fun, for a little while, and the singing always provided a shaky but noticeable shield against the creeping dread of their situation. But it couldn’t banish it entirely.

This was one of those moments where the silence reigned, and it was driving the Summoner crazy, and they couldn’t say why - 

“Where are all the birds?” Sharena asked, and they sat up from the chair they’d been sitting in, lowering the book they’d been trying to distract themselves with. They were in Sharena’s sitting room, outsider her bedroom. She’d called it a boudoir, which mostly made the Summoner think of furniture, but apparently it was Sharena’s private sitting room to entertain guests in. The Summoner had not left Sharena’s suite - nor even stopped sharing her bedroom, really. The idea of being alone for hours on end was terrifying for both of them, to the point where the Summoner moving into the lady-in-waiting’s room right next door was indescribably unappealing. They had taken to reading in the boudoir to try and distract themselves, because they were both just a bit too afraid to leave the suite and see how empty the castle really was. But Sharena had gotten up and started pacing - not unusual, considering the constant high-key background anxiety they were both dealing with at the moment - and then stopped to stare out the window for a bit. Perhaps she’d been looking to see if she could spot Alfonse returning. Or perhaps she’d been trying to see if she could spot anyone at all.

“What?” The Summoner asked, confused.

“Where are all the birds?” Sharena repeated, turning to give them a worried look. “I haven’t seen a single one fly by. I know it’s the beginning of winter, but I should see some!”

The Summoner blinked, stunned. No birds? Not one? “I…don’t know. Maybe they just haven’t nested near these windows?”

Sharena considered that, but whispered, “I haven’t heard any, either.”

Suddenly the room felt very, very cold. The Summoner was missing Alfonse’s fur cloak right about now. It might not be able to ward away this kind of chill, the kind that crawled into your bones and stayed there, but they’d feel safer wrapped up in it.

Now that they thought about it - _really_ thought about it - they hadn’t heard any birdsong, either. Nor the sounds of horses, or cats, or dogs. They hadn’t seen any sign of mice or rats, even though the castle was empty. Not even when they’d been walking up to these rooms that first night. It could be that they’d been too tired to really notice, but that didn’t explain the lack of birdsong, or the fact that they never saw so much as a hint of a spider. Spiders and things had to have moved in when the people vanished, right?

They shook their head helplessly, unable to come up with a reply. They had no answer to this.

Sharena stepped back from the window quickly, like she was afraid that something would burst through it and attack. The two of them avoided it for the rest of the day, huddling together as close as they could, as if the proximity could somehow make things right again.

* * *

“Sharena.”

The princess looked up from the desk she’d been sitting at, her hand still absently scribbling across a page. “What is it?”

“I’m bored.” It had been three days since Alfonse had left, and while at first they were nervous about leaving and facing the reality of being the only ones alive in the castle, now they were starting to go a bit stir crazy. It wasn’t that Sharena didn’t have nice rooms! She had the nicest rooms the Summoner had ever stayed in! But they just…needed to get out for a little while.

Sharena blinked. Set aside the pen. Thought. “Well…we could try and have a picnic?”

“Is that safe?” The Summoner frowned. “I know what Alfonse said, but…it can’t really be that easy, can it?”

Sharena frowned, wilting a bit at the words. Was it the reminder that Alfonse was in danger without them to help that upset her? The implication that the Summoner, her brother’s beloved partner, didn’t trust him? Or was it the fact that she harbored similar doubts and had to face the reality that there might be reason for them? Maybe all three.

Then she brightened. “I know! Why don’t we tidy up Alfonse’s room for when he gets back?” The Summoner sat up a bit, head tilting at the notion. “If there’s no—” She cut herself off with a wince, she must have been about to say that there were no servants, but she powered through it without stopping, “If he’s too busy to come keep it clean, we can at least make sure it’s ready for him, right?”

Cleaning…it wasn’t the most fun thing in the world, but it would get them out of Sharena’s suite and it would give them something to distract them for a little while. Plus it would let them feel like they were actually helping their prince in some way or another. “Alright. He probably won’t mind us going in without permission if it’s just to tidy up…”

“It’ll be fine! He won’t mind at all, trust me!”

The Summoner laughed. “You’d know better than me. Let’s go, then!”

Sharena bounced up, smiling brightly. The Summoner was so glad she was with them in this. They couldn’t imagine getting through this without her cheer. “Cleaning time! We’ll open the windows to let some air in, and get a cloth for the dust-”

They busied themselves grabbing a few things - the cloth Sharena had mentioned, a bit of soap, a bucket normally used for rinsing off suds from the bath. They weren’t going to do anything fancy, but a quick tidy wouldn’t hurt.

They stepped out of Sharena’s suite, leaving the door open - why close it if no one was here? - and coughing a bit as they kicked up dust in the solar that served as the heirs’ dining room, and the connection between the two suites and the rest of the castle. (How many rooms did royalty need? If all these were just for the prince and princess, the Summoner couldn’t imagine how big the king and queens’ suites were!) First they hauled some of their firewood out and lit the great fireplace, coaxing it to life so they wouldn’t catch a chill. Then they took the time to open the windows of the solar and let fresh air in. The Summoner worked on washing the table and chairs while Sharena dusted around, the two of them singing all the while. For a bit, it felt like doing chores back at the Order’s castle again, and they could ignore the fact that the only thing making a sound other than them was the wind.

An hour’s worth of scrubbing later (and dusting, and awkwardly holding the rugs out the window to shake, and other odds and ends) and they were satisfied that the room was at least usable. They took a quick break and had a snack at the newly cleaned dining table, and then it was time to press onward. The Summoner opened the door to their prince’s private sitting room with a sing-song “’Scuse me, Alfonse~”

And then stopped when they saw what was before them.

Sharena pushed on their shoulder, calling to them in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

The Summoner swallowed roughly, then stepped just inside and out of the way, to let Sharena see. She gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth as she recoiled.

Alfonse’s sitting room was destroyed.

The small table and chairs were in splinters, scattered in pieces all over the floor. The tablecloth, once a beautiful blue with golden embroidery, was shredded. The curtains were similarly in tatters. The chandelier that had provided light had been ripped from the ceiling, the glass scattered about the room, candles laying abandoned in the dust. Cabinets and side tables were hewn and split, almost like someone had…had taken a blade to them. Tapestries and paintings were likewise ruined. A storm could have blown through the room and done less damage than this.

“Wha-What happened here?” Sharena turned and looked around in no small amount of distress. “Was there…was there some kind of attack?”

“The solar was fine,” The Summoner murmured, mouth dry, “and so are your rooms. If it was just random pillaging, why wouldn’t they ransack everything?” They thought for a moment, and then tentatively continued. “Maybe…it was an assassination attempt? Hel sent some of her minions to try and kill Alfonse while his guard was down?”

Sharena looked at the destruction around her. “Maybe…that must have been some assassination attempt, though…”

Carefully they picked their way through the wreckage, determined to survey the rest of the suite. The study was in no better shape, the desk cleaved in two and papers scattered everywhere. The Summoner knelt down to pick some up, squinting to read what they said in the dim light streaming in through the doorway. It looked like a report…a list a casualties? No, that didn’t quite seem right. They picked up other pages, stacking them to sort through later. Maybe they would tell them something about what was going on. Sharena tried the door to the library, but it had been jammed shut - the wood was half caved, as if someone had struck it again and again and again. She gave up after a couple of tries - they _could_ force their way through, but without a lamp, they wouldn’t be able to see anything anyways. The dressing room was just as ruined as the rest, the clothes strewn about, some whole but most beyond saving.

Whatever had done this hadn’t spared the bedroom, either, but it was…less destroyed than the other rooms. Less…but only just. The majority of the furniture was beyond salvaging, hacked apart with the same blade that had been taken to the rest. The bed was in one piece, though the sheets and pillows were strewn about. A small chest sat at the foot of the bed, similarly untouched. The Summoner and Sharena exchanged a glance, before carefully making their way around the debris to the chest. It wasn’t locked, though it did creak something awful when they pulled it open.

Inside it was a small collection of things. A stuffed bear, wrapped in a battered old cloak. A piece of paper with a child’s drawing on it. A few books. A small toy sword, the sort a toddler might wave around. These things…they must have been very important to Alfonse. The Summoner was glad they hadn’t been destroyed…their prince would no doubt be devastated by their loss.

“This picture…” Sharena gingerly lifted the child’s drawing out, holding it up in the light. “I drew this. Alfonse had been upset after Father had scolded him one day…so I drew this to cheer him up. I didn’t know he kept it…”

The Summoner glanced down at the rest of the collection, and - “Is that…a flower crown?” Carefully they lifted the ring up, and sure enough, it was a crown of dried flowers. “This is…this is the crown I made, when some of the Heroes were preparing for the Day of Devotion…I gave it to him…” It didn’t surprise them that he’d taken the time to dry and preserve it, not really. They were more surprised that it was here, in the royal castle, and not in the Order’s keep. He must have been staying in the castle for a while, if he’d brought his most treasured possessions with him.

They returned the items to the chest, closed it, and sat upon the mattress. The Summoner began to pick through the papers they had found scattered around Alfonse’s desk, Sharena peering over their shoulder to see for herself. First a report on supplies, mostly bad news. A famine had been impending, but that wasn’t surprising. The longer a war drew out, the worse such things got, and they’d been at war with Hel for _years._ Second a detailing of troop movements. The Summoner traced them in their mind, but without a map or knowledge of where the troops had started, it wasn’t easy to make out a strategy. What little they could decipher seemed like it was defensive. Also unsurprising. The Askran army had been on the defensive the entire war. The Order had been the offensive arm of Askr’s forces, largely because when the Heroes died they weren’t added to Hel’s ranks. Messages from hamlets detailing the evacuation and relocation, pleas for aid from another city, missives from Embla and Nifl and even Múspell coordinating their movements. The Summoner’s brow furrowed at that. “Hel made it all the way to Nifl?”

Sharena frowned. “I don’t remember that. I don’t remember her even making it to Embla. It was just Askr…”

“I remember Embla getting involved, but not Nifl or Múspell…I hope Hríd and Laevateinn are managing okay…” Maybe that’s what had happened to Askr’s people - they had been evacuated to Nifl for safety? Hríd would take care of them, if that were the case.

But the Summoner had a sinking suspicion that wasn’t the case. That wouldn’t explain why there were no birds.

Sharena plucked a couple of reports from their hands, rearranging them in her own. “What are you doing?” They asked, unable to see her logic as she sorted through the papers.

“I’m putting them in order by date,” Sharena replied, “to help figure out what’s going on.”

“Oh.” The Summoner blinked. That was a good idea. Why hadn’t they thought of that? Finding Alfonse’s rooms in ruins must have shaken them more than they’d thought, which was saying something. They began to sort through the papers they still held, working with Sharena to figure out dates. The picture that came together wasn’t a pretty one. Famine, fear, and more than one mention of a fatal disease ravaging the kingdom relentlessly. And they had missed all of this? Alfonse had been dealing with this alone? They felt terrible, making him go through that.

“Oh, this one was written by the Commander! And it’s to you! I wonder how it ended up in here…” Sharena pulled the note out fully, holding it up so they could both read it. It was indeed Anna’s handwriting, the slanted scrawl they’d had issues deciphering for their first few months in Askr. Now reading it was easy, and seeing the familiar penmanship was a relief. Anna had been there to help, at least. That was good.

Though the contents themselves were…less comforting.

“…Alfonse was skipping meals?” The Summoner frowned. “I remember him having trouble sleeping after…after King Gustav…” They trailed off, not wanting to pick at the wound. Sharena had loved her father dearly, after all.

Sharena shook her head. “You and Commander Anna kept an eye on us to make sure we ate. Maybe she’s talking about that? Except the dates are wrong. Something else must’ve happened.” The princess read over the letter again, expression twisting in confused distress. “I’m more worried about this part. What kind of risks was he taking to make the Commander recommend _ordering_ him to stay out of battle? Did she ever talk to you about that?”

“No? I don’t remember anything like that! I don’t remember snapping and snarling at anyone, either. We were all stressed, but…!”

Sharena went silent for a moment, before whispering their name. “…Do you think…that has something to do with all of…this…?” She turned, gaze falling on the mess that had once been a dresser.

The Summoner stared at the letter without seeing it, as if the words would rearrange themselves into something less troubling if only they looked for long enough. Alfonse had never had any fits of rage that they could recall, much less any destructive rampages. He’d have periods of intense depression, where he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but sit in a dark room and cry…they could recall sitting with him in the middle of this very room, arms around each other, both of them trying to comfort the other between sobs of their own—

That made their brow furrow. Why had they been crying? Alfonse had lost his father, so his mourning was understandable, but the Summoner hadn’t really known King Gustav. Why, then, could they distinctly recall feeling like all joy had been sucked from the world? What…they had lost someone, but who?

And this…had the grief and helplessness proved too much for Alfonse to handle? Now that they thought about it…they could recall their prince being at his wit’s end, sitting with him in the wreckage, curled up with each other, resigned to…something.

…It had to have been an assassination attempt. Hel’s minions didn’t leave bodies, or blood, and there would have been too much going on for people to waste time cleaning up the mess. He’d’ve just moved into other rooms, and carried on fighting. That had to be it.

It had to be, they told themselves, even though part of them was aware that it was a lie.

“Sharena?” The Summoner said at last, having finally noticed that the letter - and the hand that held it - was shaking. “…Can we still have that picnic?”

Sharena stood quickly — too quickly, even for her typical bubbly energy. “Yeah! Let’s—Let’s go grab the food!”

They tucked away the papers they had found in Sharena’s study, and tried to forget them for a while. It was a futile attempt, but they tried all the same.

* * *

Two days after the discovery of the reports in Alfonse’s study, and the Summoner finally worked up the courage to go deeper into the castle in search of answers. They had to get Sharena to show them the way, but by midmorning they were listening to the sound of their footsteps echo through the empty library as they looked for something that might tell them what had happened.

Between the still air, the completely silence, and the darkness, the place was far more terrifying than it had any right to be. The Summoner was half expecting some knife-wielding manic to jump out from behind a shelf and attack them. They’d almost welcome that, actually - the Heroes had all made sure they knew how to defend themselves from would-be assassins, and it would be nice to see someone else alive. But there were no crazy ax-murderers in the library, just the old, dusty books.

It took hours, picking their way through the stacks to find what they were looking for. In truth, they had expected the search to take days - the royal library of Askr was hardly small. But finding the records was easier than they’d thought it would be, and the most recent ones were rather obvious - they were only half pushed in, as if they’d been moved around in a hurry. The Summoner flipped through each of them in turn. That bit was about their arrival, this book about the war with Múspell, and here…here was Hel’s invasion.

“ _’The Heart’s Rite is the only method that may bring the ruler of the dead low…’_ That’s right, I remember that. Prince Bruno helped us find it, and…” And…then what? They couldn’t remember.

Judging by what was written, they weren’t sure they wanted to.

_’With every pulse, it steals one life.’_ They shook as they read the words. _‘People, beasts, any that drew breath—death came for all.’_

They dropped the book and recoiled as if it had burned them, tears blurring their vision. Everyone? Every single person in Askr, and Embla, and even beyond? Every single living thing in Zenith? They had…they had performed that rite with Prince Bruno. Did that mean…that _they_ had killed everyone?

They fled the library without looking back, and collapsed into sobs when they found the sun again.

* * *

The next day, Alfonse returned.

The silence was broken by the sound of a horse, and the Summoner and Sharena both had rushed to a window to see what was going on. They couldn’t see anything - it must have already passed through the part of the road the windows faced - but it was enough to send them running through the halls to see what was going on. They turned a corner and all but collided with Alfonse, who had also been rushing through the corridor. His arms wrapped around them instinctively, trying to catch them as they stumbled, but he couldn’t regain his own balance and so the three of them were sent sprawling to the floor with various noises of alarm.

They sat in a heap for a moment, processing what had just happened, and then Alfonse broke into laughter. Hearing his voice again, bright and unburdened, lifted a weight from the Summoner, and they found themselves joining him. Sharena began to scold her brother for failing to watch where he was going…only to burst into giggles herself when he pointed out that they had been in just as much of a hurry.

Thing still weren’t okay, the worry still sat heavy in their heart. But having Alfonse there, laughing with them, made it easier to ignore. They could carry their burdens when their beloved partner was around.

They sat up, still chuckling, arms still around each other. “Welcome back!” Sharena said at last, smiling brightly.

Alfonse smiled back - he’d left that horrible mask behind, thankfully. “I’m glad to be back. Though I could have done with a less abrupt greeting.” He laughed again when the Summoner swatted at him. “You two are looking better. Things haven’t been too bad, have they? I came back as quickly as I was able.”

“It’s too quiet,” Sharena said, “it’s creepy!”

“We were worried about you,” the Summoner added, hand tightening in Alfonse’s fur cape.

“I told you there was no need for that,” he chided gently, “as you can see, I am perfectly well.”

They gave him a flat look when he said that. Perfectly well, sure - except for the whole _visible ribs_ thing. But that was fine! Just fine!

Alfonse sighed, knowing exactly what they were getting at. He leaned forwards to press a kiss to their forehead, which they accepted with a sigh of their own. “Don’t be like that. I have news for you both. Actually, I need your help with something.”

They perked up at that. Alfonse needed their help? But he had been so adamant to keep them out of it earlier. “What is it?”

“Veronica is here with me - as is Zacharias. He—”

Sharena gasped in shock and joy, cutting off whatever Alfonse was about to say. “Zacharias is here? Is he okay? Did something happen?”

Alfonse’s smile shifted slightly, became a bit more stiff. “He’s…well. He is in much the same state as the two of you were.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The Summoner shivered, remembering cold stone and pitch black. “Veronica is hoping the two of you would be willing to look after him as he recovers? We can’t stay here as long as last time, you see.”

“Of course we can!” Sharena answered without even thinking about it. Not that the Summoner disagreed. Bruno had saved their life once. The least they could do was to help him in turn.

Alfonse helped them stand, dropped off the pack he’d had shouldered (supplies, he’d explained), and led them outside, to the main courtyard. Standing in the courtyard, patting a horse (did they know that horse? It looked familiar…) was a figure with the familiar silvery-white hair of Princess Veronica, Prince Bruno slumped against her legs. Her typical headpiece had been replaced with two horns, for some reason. When she turned, it became clear they were part of a mask.

Not that the Summoner was paying attention to that, what with how they could see Veronica’s ribs too. Just like with Alfonse, only she glowed red instead of blue. Distantly they could hear Sharena gasp, see her hands flying up to cover her mouth, could feel Alfonse’s gentle hand resting on their lower back. There was an awkward silence, for a moment.

The Summoner swallowed roughly, and then forced themselves to speak. “It’s, uh, been a while, hasn’t it?”

Veronica’s lips twitched upwards, just slightly. “Hello, Summoner, Princess Sharena. It has been some time.”

How long had it been, the Summoner wondered? Funny, they got the feeling it hadn’t been that long at all. Whenever they had been put out of commission…they were pretty sure Veronica had been there. Maybe they could ask her what happened? She wouldn’t be as pained about it as Alfonse was.

Of course, that would have to wait. It was plain to see that they wouldn’t be getting anything out of Veronica until Bruno had been tended to.

“So…where is Bruno going to sleep? Sharena’s bed doesn’t exactly have enough room for three.”

“He can have my bed,” Alfonse replied easily, “I’m not exactly using it.”

The Summoner and Sharena exchanged uncertain glances. Did he not know about how his suite had been wrecked? But he was already moving to lift Bruno up and carry him. Veronica had her own pack, and a couple more were tied to the horse. Veronica was quick to toss those saddlebags at the Summoner and Sharena both - Alfonse assured them they could get the horse stabled as soon as Bruno was settled.

Their footsteps echoed as eerily through the empty castle as ever, but it was easier to ignore when they were busy hauling things and pestering Alfonse and Veronica for details (Veronica was being as tight lipped as Alfonse was, which was both unsurprising and supremely annoying) and fretting over how their prince would react to the state of his room.

As it turned out, he didn’t react at all. He stepped in and walked through the wreckage without even pausing. Like he didn’t even notice it. Veronica was likewise unsurprised…did she know how it happened? Alfonse carefully laid Bruno out on the bed, tucking the man in as Veronica used magic to light the fireplace. And then Alfonse began to pick up the shredded bits of his old furniture and toss it into the fire as kindling.

The Summoner was well aware they were staring. Sharena managed to find her voice, which was nice. At least one of them could. “Um…Alfonse? Your room…”

Alfonse turned, smile stiff. Forced. “I know. It was ruined…during the height of Hel’s attacks. Her influence was everywhere…” Veronica snorted in contempt, and Alfonse’s eyes flicked over to her, narrowing in a warning. “With things the way they are…I haven’t had a chance to do anything about it.” The answer sounded…rehearsed. Like he’d planned out exactly what he was going to tell them. And it didn’t actually _tell_ them anything. He wasn’t meeting their eyes again, was he hiding something? …No, that couldn’t be right. They had to be reading too much into it. It was an assassination attempt, just like they’d thought. He was just upset about having been attacked in his own home. “You two don’t seem very surprised,” Alfonse noted, brows raising.

“We came in a few days ago, to try and clean,” Sharena whispered, almost guiltily.

Alfonse’s expression cleared, became more natural. “I appreciate the thought.”

They managed a smile, and tried to tell themselves it was fine.

* * *

Soup was on the go, everyone was moving around cleaning, and Sharena was regaling Veronica with tales of Bruno’s time in the Order of Heroes, to keep the Imperial Princess’s mind off of how worried she was. Alfonse added his own thoughts on occasion, but mostly let his sister do the talking, watching with a fond smile. This camaraderie was something they had been wishing for ever since they had saved Veronica from Surtr’s flames - a hope that they could reach an understanding, and Askr and Embla could know peace.

The Summoner excused themselves, citing the need to tend to the horse. It would be cruel to just leave the poor thing in it’s tack for much longer.

They were pleased to see that the horse was, in fact, a normal, living horse, not the undead mounts of Hel’s army. Though it had clearly seen better days, how had it managed to carry anybody? If Alfonse or Veronica had pushed the poor thing to death’s doorstep just to get here faster, they were going to be very upset with the both of them. Unhitching the beast, they led it to the stables, and set to work making sure it had food and water. They weren’t an expert in horse care by any stretch, but working in the Order for so long had taught them the basics, if nothing else. They gave it one of the apples they had swiped from the supplies Alfonse had brought, patting its neck gently as it devoured the thing with gusto.

Glancing around, they realized they couldn’t find a brush, and stepped outside the stall to try and locate one. They were sorting through a pile of things thrown haphazardly on the table when something tapped their arm and a familiar voice asked, “Looking for this?”

They jerked away with a small shriek, shoulder bumping against the wall as they spun around to find Alfonse there, hands raised in a pacifying gesture. He was holding the brush. “Oh…thanks.” The Summoner managed, trying to calm their racing heart. “Maybe don’t sneak up on me next time, though? Please? You about gave me a heart attack.”

“My apologies,” Alfonse replied, “I hadn’t intended to.”

They took the brush he offered, gaze dropping as they looked it over, turning it over in their hands.

Alfonse traced their jaw with his fingers, calling their name in a worried tone. “What’s wrong? You can tell me anything.”

“I…found…there were…” They tried to admit to seeing the papers that had been on Alfonse’s desk, but couldn’t find the courage to admit to it. When had they started fearing his reactions? That didn’t seem right. “I found a book in the library,” they said instead, trying to keep their voice steady and failing. “And it…it talked about—about a rite…”

Alfonse’s expression had darkened, lips pressed together tightly, but there was no anger in it. His touch on their cheek was still gentle.

“Alfonse…we—we enacted that rite, didn’t we? I remember—I remember Bruno l-leading us somewhere, and—” They swallowed roughly. Suddenly words were hard to find.

Alfonse’s hand stilled.

“Did we—did I—is this—is this my fault? Every—everyone is gone, is it because of the rite?” Their voice broke, and they were shaking. The tears were coming again. They didn’t bother trying to fight them. “Alfonse, did I—did Bruno and I kill everyone?”

“No,” Alfonse breathed, his other hand coming up to hold their face, his thumbs wiping away their tears. He pressed his forehead to their own, holding their gaze with his own, brown _(that was wrong they should be blue and that was probably the Summoner’s fault too)_ eyes full of love and care. “No, no, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You haven’t killed anyone, love, please, don’t blame yourself…”

Their hands came up to cover his own, even as they cried their eyes out. He pulled them close, one hand moving to their lower back, cradling them against him as he murmured reassurances. They didn’t know how long they stood there, crying, but they felt worn to the bone by the end of it.

“Alfonse?” They whispered after a moment of silence, “Take me with you when you go.”

“I can’t do that,” he replied softly, shaking his head.

“Why not? If—if I can help you make things right—” _If I can help you fix my mistake,_ they thought but didn’t say, “—then you should take me with you!”

“No.” His voice grew firmer. “I need you to stay here. Someone has to look after the people when they return.”

“ _Sharena_ can do that; she’s the princess, not me! I’m supposed to be with you!”

“Sharena can’t do it alone, your experience managing the Order will be invaluable—”

“Bruno can help her, then!” Their voice rose in volume and intensity. It might have cracked, but they weren’t paying enough attention to how they sounded to care. “Alfonse, we’re _supposed_ to be partners! My place is with _you—_ ”

Alfonse slammed their back against the wall, his grip around their waist tightening to the point of being painful. _“NO! YOU ARE **NOT** COMING WITH ME! YOU ARE STAYING RIGHT HERE!”_ He roared the words at them, eyes glowing a bloody crimson as he loomed over them. They shrank back, pulling away from him, making themselves smaller. Alfonse had never yelled at them in anger before. He’d raise his voice in worry, on occasion, but never in _anger_. It was enough to bring the tears back to their eyes.

And just like that, the rage was gone. The glow vanished from his eyes, the harsh expression falling in favor of regret and…fear? “I—” His voice shook, now. “I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t have shouted at you, please don’t cry, I’m so sorry—” He was cradling their face again, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on their cheeks. “I—I—Please. Please understand. I can’t bring you with me. I can’t—can’t put you in danger again, I can’t risk losing you. If—If something were to happen to you, I would surely go mad. Please, _please_ stay here, where it’s safe…”

They relaxed, slowly, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He nuzzled into it, gaze still boring into their own, terrified, entreating.

“I can’t lose you either,” they whispered, voice cracking. “I can’t—I lost everything once, Alfonse, and now—now I’m close to losing it all again. You and—and Sharena, you’re all I have left, and I hate that you’re putting yourself in danger without me, I hate wondering when you’re coming back or if you’re okay or if—if you aren’t coming back at all—”

Alfonse pressed himself closer to them, engulfing them in a crushing embrace, just like when he’d found them in the crypts. “I know, I’m sorry, but please. Please trust me. Nothing will stop me from coming back to you. I won’t let _anything_ keep us apart, I swear. I swear on my love for you.”

It was the most heartfelt promise he could have made, and they knew it. It wasn’t enough to stop their worrying, or their desire to be with him, but it was comforting all the same.

* * *

They had been the one sitting with Bruno when he finally woke up the next morning. The others weren’t far, just in the sitting room cleaning some of the mess so getting in and out didn’t involve dodging quite so many splinters and shards of glass; the Summoner and Sharena were taking turns sitting with Bruno, since it was agreed that waking up to Alfonse or Veronica in their current state would probably do more harm than good.

He didn’t wake gradually - or, if he did, he kept still enough that the Summoner didn’t notice he was waking at first. His eyes snapped open and he moved as if to push himself up, wincing as his arms quivered under the strain.

“Woah, hey, easy!” The Summoner scrambled to help support him, leaning him against the headboard and then reaching for the cup of water that had been set aside for this very moment. “Take it slow, Prince Bruno. You’re safe.” They helped him drink the water, and then filled the cup again for another round, and filled it again after that since he’d need more soon enough.

Bruno relaxed when he recognized their voice; doubtless he wasn’t used to seeing them with their hood down. It wasn’t like they could blame him, it was strange to be able to look him in the eyes instead of having to try and figure out what was going on behind a mask! The mask was on the chest at the foot of the bed, Veronica had insisted it be at hand in case her brother was more comfortable with it than without. It wouldn’t have been hard to find, the Summoner supposed, Bruno _had_ been buried with it—

Their entire train of thought came to a screeching halt. He had been buried with his mask. When—when had that happened? They remembered Veronica breaking down, collapsing, they and Alfonse both reaching out to her and pulling her into a fierce hug. How had he died? An attack? No, that didn’t feel right…

“Summoner?” His voice was low and scratchy, like he hadn’t used it in far too long, but it was still enough to jolt them back to the present.

“You can use my name, Prince Bruno.”

“And you needn’t use my title.” He replied in kind, lips twitching upwards for a scant moment. But the look of concern quickly returned. “What happened? The rite…did it work?”

Their blood ran cold. The rite…that’s when it was. The day after the rite, they’d found Bruno’s body on the floor of Embla’s royal library, with no idea how he had died. With what had been written in that book they’d found…had the rite been what had killed him?

Clearly something showed on their face, for his own darkened. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice from the rooms beyond. “Brother? Are you awake?”

He perked up. “Veronica?” He coughed a bit for having raised his voice, but shook it off easily enough. “Yes, I am awake. My apologies for causing you to fret.”

Footsteps swiftly grew closer, three sets of them. They could hear Alfonse calling for Veronica to wait a moment. They had just enough time to turn to Bruno and whisper “Don’t freak out!” before Veronica had stepped through the threshold in all her glowing red skeletal glory.

Bruno jerked in place as if he’d be struck with a Thoron spell, eyes widening and fists clenching the sheets. Veronica, heedless to this reaction, plopped right down on the bed, turning to look him over. “How are you feeling? Did you get any water? Do you need something to eat? We have stew and some bread. It’s from yesterday, but I learned a spell to keep food fresh and warm on long marches, so it should still be good. Do you need me to get you some?”

Bruno continued to stare. The Summoner took pity on him, remembering just how shocking and horrifying seeing Alfonse like that for the first time was _(it still was, who were they kidding)_ , and turning to answer Veronica for him. “He’s had water, but stew would probably be helpful? Sharena and I were both starving when we first woke up.”

Veronica blinked at them, like she couldn’t decide if she was upset that they had dared to answer for her brother or not…but apparently she settled on allowing it, and nodded. She stood and made her way over to the fireplace, beside which they’d left the food.

“I told you you should have waited, Veronica,” Alfonse said with a sigh and a shake of his head. He leaned in the doorway, regarding Veronica with a brotherly fondness he typically reserved for Sharena. “You could have at least given them the chance to warn him.”

Bruno jerked again, gaze switching to the Askran prince in the doorway, mouth opening like he was going to ask a question but no words falling out.

“Hello, Zacharias. My apologies for startling you. Veronica and I have been working to save everyone, but it’s required…some rather drastic measures. I promise it’s not permanent, if that is of any comfort.”

Bruno continued to stare.

“Brother, move out of the way!” Sharena’s voice drifted from behind Alfonse, who laughed and did as he was told. “Telling me Zacharias is awake and then keeping me from him. Really!”

“That wasn’t my intention and you know it, Sharena,” Alfonse shook his head, still chuckling to himself. Sharena stuck her tongue out at him - which prompted a snort of amusement - and then turned to Bruno with that beaming smile on her face.

He didn’t relax. But he did find his words. “Sharena? You’re here as well…?”

“Well, yeah!” Sharena frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Something flashed across Alfonse’s expression - a spark of pain and despair, quickly wiped away. The Summoner glanced over to Bruno - was his brow furrowed because he had seen it to, or because he was trying to figure out why he was shocked that Sharena was here in her own castle?

They had a sinking suspicion they knew why he was shocked that Sharena was here in her own castle. Thankfully he didn’t get to voice whatever it was he was thinking - Veronica plopped on the bed once more, holding out a bowl and spoon. “Can you eat on your own?”

Bruno glanced between everyone, made a decision, and then gave his sister a smile. “Well, I can certainly try.”

* * *

Bruno’s recovery went at much the same speed as theirs had. For the start of it, he was confined in bed. And like with the Summoner and Sharena, he was rarely left alone to dwell upon what had brought him to this point - Veronica was loath to leave her brother alone, and both of the Askran siblings were excited to speak to their childhood friend. Stories were swapped with gusto - Veronica in particular begged all sorts of tales of Bruno’s time with the Order of Heroes - and there was an air of lightness to everything.

A lightness that drifted over a dark current of dread. Bruno clearly _wanted_ to know what was going on, but Alfonse and Veronica deflected his questions at every turn, and he never had enough time alone with the Summoner or Sharena to ask them.

The Summoner, for their part, merely waited. Alfonse and Veronica would leave again eventually, and _then_ they would be able to talk to Bruno about what was going on, once everyone felt brave enough to broach the subject. They didn’t like having to go behind Alfonse’s back like that, but their prince very clearly did not want to talk about the present situation, and they very much wanted to know what was happening. There was that cold feeling that sat in their stomach, that told them that whatever was happening here was _wrong_ but they couldn’t figure anything out. Maybe Bruno would be able to shed some light on what had happened.

The day after Bruno had woken up, Alfonse pulled them aside to the solar, where he’d laid out a map of Zenith.

“This town,” he said, tapping the tip of his claw-gauntleted finger on the spot in question, “will be the first to come back. It’ll be a week after we leave, at least, so you should be able to get there in time to help everyone.”

“…How do you know it’s going to be that town, Alfonse?” They asked, frowning.

“Well, it wouldn’t be much good if I brought people back without knowing where they are, right?” He gave them a reassuring smile. “It will be that one, trust me.”

They nodded slowly, looking over the map. The town in question was a small farming village on Askr’s border - it seemed familiar somehow. Hadn’t they passed through there before? No, not just passed through, they’d fought near there. Was it during Surtr’s brief invasion? Ah, that didn’t matter. “We don’t have enough food for them, unless everything in their stores somehow hasn’t spoiled since…whatever happened happened.”

Alfonse very carefully _didn’t_ react to that. They knew he was very carefully not reacting because they recalled seeing him do just that after his father had died. Whenever something that upset him came up, he’d bottle it up and tuck it away until—

Until he tore his own chambers up in a frenzy, apparently. They shoved that thought aside. It was an assassination attempt. They told themselves that, even though they knew better. Remembered what actually happened.

“I know. Veronica and I are arranging supplies, but we’ll need you, Sharena, and Zacharias there to help distribute them. …The townsfolk will no doubt take to you far more readily than to Veronica and I.” His smile was rueful, but he didn’t sound like he regretted his choice.

“That’s putting it mildly,” the Summoner murmured in response. “We’ll be there. Are you leaving the horse?”

“Of course. It’s Zacharias’, after all.”

Ah. So that’s why the horse had seemed familiar. Well, that answered that question. They spent some more time working out the optimal route to travel on, and then were swiftly dragged back into Alfonse’s rooms by Sharena. Something about a time she, Alfonse, and Bruno had built a fort in the library? Well, that was a story they wanted to hear.

The next morning, Alfonse and Veronica left to go do…whatever it was they intended to do to bring a village back from the dead.

* * *

They left for the village two days later. Bruno wasn’t in the best of shape, but insisted that they take him anyways. It was hardly an argument - the idea of leaving someone so completely alone was, frankly, horrifying. They weren’t making the best time in the world, but without any worry of bandits, ne’re-do-wells, or other, more otherworldly terrors, things were peaceful. Bruno’s horse (Lowen was his name) trotted along behind them, led by the reigns; he wasn’t well enough to carry anything more than a couple day’s supplies on his back, but Bruno assured them that being allowed outside to trot at an easy pace would do him some good.

It would have been a pleasant trip, had everything not been so damnably quiet. No birds. No bugs. No squirrels or rabbits or deer. Nothing.

The conversation was harmless, at first. Bruno reminiscing about coming to this part of the country with the Order, Sharena pointing out shapes in the clouds, the Summoner sharing stories of their own trips in their own world. Safe.

But they couldn’t avoid what was bothering them forever. They’d buried it under all the talk of preparing for this trip at first, and then the sight-seeing, but they couldn’t run from their reality.

“…How are they bringing people back?” Bruno asked at one point, apropos of nothing.

“We don’t know,” Sharena replied, shaking her head, “they won’t tell us. We’ve been trying to weasel it out of my brother since we woke up, but he won’t budge.”

Bruno frowned, nose scrunching up a bit under his mask. (He’d insisted on wearing it if they were going to be around random villagers of Askr. The Summoner could relate, they planned on keeping their hood up. Sharena thought they both were being ridiculous.)

“Hey, Bruno? When you first saw Sharena again, you were really confused. Why was that?”

“…” He considered how to answer that, before shaking his head. “The last time I recall seeing you and Alfonse, Sharena was not there.”

“Where was I?”

Bruno’s response was a whisper. “You were dead.”

**_“WHAT?!”_** Sharena gasped and sputtered. “That—that can’t be right! I think I would remember _dying!”_

“…I thought that was why.” The Summoner murmured, shoulders slumping. Sharena turned to them, wide-eyed, horrified. They wished they could say _just kidding_ and laugh it off as a really bad joke, but…no. They wouldn’t lie or hide things from Sharena. She deserved to know. They all did. “Sharena, we woke up _in the crypts_. You don’t just _end up_ in a crypt.”

“But…I don’t remember anything that would have killed me…” Her gaze dropped to her toes, arms coming up to wrap around herself. The Summoner put their own arm around her waist, tugging her into a hug. Bruno’s arm came to rest across her shoulders. She shuddered, but didn’t push them away.

“I don’t know what happened to you either,” Bruno said lowly, voice solemn, “but you’re here _now_ , and you’re alright, and we’re not going to let anything happen to you again.”

Sharena nodded after a moment. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you two either.”

The Summoner only hugged her tighter.

“But…you were down in the crypts, too.” Sharena said after a long period of silence, turning to look at the Summoner once more. “So does that mean that…you died too…?”

They frowned. Wracked their brain. Shook their head slowly. “I…must have.” It was hard to get those words out. “But I can’t remember either. I remember…going to Hel. We were trying to find her weakness, and then…she attacked and—” A flash of memory; Alfonse screaming, Sharena reaching out for them, her eyes wide with terror, having to pull Alfonse to his feet and flee. Pain and despair. They shook their head again, unable to put the memory into words.

“…Hel killed Sharena,” Bruno whispered, guessing at where their story was going, his grip around his friend’s shoulders tightening on instinct. All the Summoner could do was nod.

“…We had to retreat. And then we found out about the rite, I don’t remember how…”

“I believe Veronica and I approached you about it,” Bruno replied, “it was and Emblian ritual, after all.”

They nodded.

“So…what was the rite supposed to do?” Sharena found her voice again, small as it was.

“It was…it was supposed to give us the power to kill Hel.” The Summoner responded.

“And it didn’t work,” Bruno muttered, shaking his head, tone slightly bitter, no doubt over the thought of dying for nothing.

“That’s not true,” the Summoner shook their head as they spoke, “it did work. That’s the problem. It worked, but it needed lives to fuel it.” They turned away from the other two, staring up at the clouds. That one looked like a wyvern and rider. They tried to puzzle out which of the wyvern riders they knew resembled it the most. Michalis, maybe. Anything to not look at their friends. “We did the rite, and Bruno…we found you the next day, dead. The day after that, one of your attendants died. And each day after that…” they trailed off. They didn’t need to say it. “All Hel had to do was hang back and wait.”

Silence.

“…But that price has already been paid, hasn’t it?” Bruno finally broke the silence, uncertain. “We’ve all been here for days, and none of us has mysteriously perished.”

“Seems to be the case.”

“But…what happened to the weapon? The thing that could defeat Hel?” Sharena glanced between the two of them.

Reflexively the Summoner glanced down to where the holster for Breidablik should have been. It wasn’t there - come to think of it, they hadn’t seen Breidablik once since they’d woken up in the crypts. What had happened? Had Hel spirited it away, to keep them from using it against her? What about their Heroes, what had happened to them?

“I don’t know,” they said at last, their voice shaking just slightly, “I’ll have to ask Alfonse about it later.”

* * *

The unnatural stillness and silence was all the more unsettling when standing in the square of what should have been a bustling farming community as the sun was only just beginning to set.

“Where is everyone? Alfonse said they were coming back today, right…?” Sharena glanced around, fingers coming up to tuck some hair behind her ears as a nervous gesture.

“Well, if it’s like with us, they won’t be up and about for a while…” The Summoner replied, glancing around from under their hood. No signs of life. Had Alfonse been mistaken? Or maybe the timing was just slightly off?

“Let us look around,” Bruno suggested.

At first, they found nothing. Nobody manning shops, or hanging laundry, or churning butter or any other number of chores that people did during the day. No fires going in the houses, no dogs, no birds, nothing. And then, at Bruno’s suggestion, they started trying the doors to houses. All of them were unlocked, but no one answered when they called.

They checked in the bedrooms, just to be sure and nearly shrieked at what they found. There were the people, in their beds, still and cold and very much still dead. It was chilling, even more so when they knew that those people might very well rise as soldiers of Hel at any moment. This place was a deathtrap waiting to happen. Sure, a mob of farmers and tradesmen wouldn’t be the biggest challenge they’d ever faced, but it would still be really unpleasant in more ways than they were comfortable with.

No, no, Alfonse had said this village was coming back. They had to believe in him. They did believe in him.

The three of them set up in the local inn’s common room, lighting the fire and huddling around it over a sparse dinner. Lowen was in the stables, blankets over top of him, the only living thing outside. The Summoner had pulled out a big blanket and thrown it over all of them - both to keep warm, and as a shield against the dark and the fears that lingered in it.

“You don’t think something happened to Alfonse…do you?” Sharena whispered quietly, idly stirring her stew around with her spoon.

“I hope not…”

“…Today isn’t over yet,” Bruno said, shaking his head. “Perhaps they forgot to inform us that it would be well into the night. Or perhaps they’ve been delayed, and it will be tomorrow.”

“You don’t think Hel got to these people first, right?” The Summoner didn’t want to consider the possibility, but threat assessment was a part of their job. They had to think about things like that. “If she’s still out there, she’s probably not happy with what they’re doing. I wouldn’t put it past her to try and get to the people first and reanimate them so Alfonse can’t bring them back…”

“From the way Veronica described it, Hel is not actually aware of what they are doing,” Bruno protested, but his heart wasn’t quite in it, “I would like to think that they are being careful enough that that has not changed.”

“Alfonse is always super careful, I’m sure—ah!” Sharena jolted, leaning over. The Summoner nearly spilled their bowl, they were so startled, and Bruno instantly turned, magic flaring in his hands. They were silent for a moment, and then Sharena jumped up, raced over to the far side of the room, and pulled something from the windowsill. It was lump of orange fur, and she cradled it carefully to her chest as she raced back to the fire, dropping to her knees next to them once more. An orange tabby cat, with a lovely ribbon for a collar. Sharena stared intently, and the Summoner and Bruno leaned closer, trying to figure out what she was looking for—

The cat’s ear twitched. A faint _mrrt_ came from its form. Its belly began to rise and fall with breath.

“Holy shit,” the Summoner heard themselves say.

Sharena reached up and scratched at the cat’s forehead, and it stirred slightly. They all stared in awe for a moment, and then the moment was ruined with the faint cry of a small child from somewhere upstairs. The Summoner tripped over their feet and almost fell on top of Bruno, they were in such a hurry to see what was happening. They tripped again up the stairs - it was dark and they weren’t exactly paying attention to where they were putting their feet - and they nearly rammed the door down in their hurry to open it. But sure enough, in the crib was a toddler, trying to cry and only sort of managing it over the rasp in their throat. The innkeepers stirred in their bed, trying to respond to their crying child and finding themselves too weak to do so.

_“Holy shit!”_ The Summoner couldn’t help but say it again, voice rising so that Sharena and Bruno would hear them downstairs, _“They did it! Alfonse and Veronica really did it!”_

They stood there, gapping in stupefied joy for a moment, until the child’s next cry knocked them back into reality. “…It’s cold up here. Wait, crap, it’s too cold everywhere, we need to—” Turning around they ran down the steps, and tripped _again,_ only to be caught by Bruno. “Hey! We need blankets! And fires! And water, and more stew, and, and—”

“Slow down,” Bruno scolded them gently as he set them upright, “one thing at a time.”

“Right. Wait, no, we can’t go slow! It’s the middle of winter and it’s nighttime and there’s no fires or anything lit! These people are gonna freeze and get sick if we don’t hurry! And they need water, and food—”

“We don’t have enough made for everyone,” Sharena protested, still cradling the cat to her chest. “We’ll have to get something for the animals, too—”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Bruno can you light the fireplaces and get blankets for people? And maybe let them know that we’re here to help and to not panic?” Bruno nodded, clapping their shoulder and making his way upstairs. “Sharena, you work on getting water to everyone. I’ll start getting a bit more stew going, and look for any animals that might be around while it cooks, and then we’ll all meet up and start getting people fed, okay?”

“We don’t have a lot of supplies,” Sharena reminded them, even as she bundled the cat up and set it close to the fire, “we can’t feed everyone for long.”

“They did say they would be back with more,” Bruno commented, returning downstairs, “they were right about this village returning today. We should trust them to be right about that, as well.”

“He’s right. We just gotta trust Alfonse and Veronica. Now let’s go! These people can’t wait!”

They had to scramble around madly, running to and fro and constantly dodging past each other to try and get everything done, but none of them cared. The excitement of having people back, of seeing proof that they could reverse the fortunes of their homes, it was enough to keep them running late into the night, despite the cold and the fatigue. When finally they had made sure every living thing they could find - even random birds and rabbits and the like out in the cold - was warm and fed, they collapsed in front of the inn’s fireplace, the sound of the cat’s purring lulling them to sleep.

* * *

Alfonse and Veronica turned up at around midday, driving a cart full of supplies. The townspeople weren’t well enough to cheer for their arrival, but that didn’t matter. The Summoner and Sharena did it for them. Even Bruno was beaming as he helped unhitch and tend to the horses. After the initial bout of hugs and celebration, they got to work. Alfonse and Veronica stayed outside, dividing the supplies up per person. The Summoner organized what went where - they were used to that, after running the Order for years - and Sharena and Bruno delivered them, storing fresh food and medicine in pantries and reassuring the people that yes, they would have what they needed to survive through the winter. They even made sure the animals were tended to - they were just as important! - to the point of scattering feed and scraps of meat in the nearby forest, for any creatures that had returned in there that they couldn’t see. Veronica assured them that the power that revived them would sustain them until they were awake enough to move around again, the food just made it easier to get back into the swing of things, but the Summoner still worried.

Especially when a pair of horses near the local mill didn’t get up. They hadn’t stirred the night before, but the Summoner had been so caught up in the excitement of everything else reviving, they hadn’t really stopped to think about it. But they were still cold and unmoving, no more alive than when the trio had first arrived in town.

When they brought it up, Alfonse had gently teased them for worrying overmuch, which they immediately turned back around on him. The familiar banter caused them to relax and put it out of their mind. They were probably just taking a little longer for whatever reason. They turned their attention to the seeds that Veronica was beginning to unload - it might still be winter, but there was no telling how much had survived between when people had last lived here and now. They’d need those seeds for sowing season, especially if they were having to carry parts of Askr (or Embla, or even Nifl and Múspell!) that hadn’t gotten back on their feet soon enough to help with the farming effort.

After things were distributed, Alfonse pulled them aside and went over the map with them again, pointing out the next town that they would need to visit. It was another farming community some distance away. A bit of a jump, but they could understand the choice. None of them wanted a famine. Once he’d helped them make the plans and given them a timeline, Alfonse had sadly informed them that he had to leave - he and Veronica didn’t want to lose their momentum, he explained. They were disappointed at having to say goodbye to their prince so soon, but didn’t complain. There was work to be done.

An hour after Alfonse and Veronica had left, the two horses finally began to stir to life. Looking at them, the Summoner could almost swear they had the same colors and patterns as the ones Alfonse and Veronica had left with.

* * *

A month passed, then two. They were on the cusp of spring, and towns were coming back left and right. The first communities were up and running, doing their best to help Askr however they could, even if it was just getting the fields ready and keeping an eye on the local wildlife to make sure they were readjusting too. No one ever caught a glimpse of Alfonse and Veronica (which was probably for the best) but Sharena had been sure to spread the word, and the people were overjoyed to hear that their prince was doing everything that he could to help them, and that he had made peace with Embla’s princess to do such. The idea that peace might finally be close was a welcome one.

Sitting in the middle of a trade town, looking over the map they had been carrying with them and using to plan routes, the Summoner pondered where they were going next. It looked like Alfonse was aiming for the wheat country now, which made sense. That was Askr’s breadbasket, it was unquestionably a priority.

They plotted the route, noting that it would take them through a forested area, they’d have to keep an eye out for wild animals, in case they needed a bit of help to get them going again. The supplies would need to come a fair distance, but with the warp magic Veronica had been helping them employ, that shouldn’t be too difficult. She really was a prodigy, it was impressive. Having this sort of system in place would have been invaluable in the fight against Surtr or Hel—

They paused, frowning for a moment. Something about that thought didn’t quite sit right. Something was off, and they’d been told by plenty of Heroes that their intuition was bordering unnatural in its accuracy. But what was setting it off?

They looked at the map again. The routes were fairly simple, they’d started on the far edge of Askr and had slowly been working their way through farming communities and the like, extending their reach little by little. It had been strange how they had jumped from town to town seemingly at random at first, almost like they were avoiding something—there was nothing to avoid. Right?

They stared at that first town again. And then it hit them - that was the town closest to the gate to Hel. They had passed through there on their doomed push into her turf, just before Sharena…before Hel murdered her.

Was that why the initial points had been scattered? To avoid Hel’s notice? But if that were the reason, it would make more sense for those to be the last ones. The way they’d moved across the land, it was almost like…like _they_ were the invading force.

Now that they saw it, they couldn’t unsee it. They’d discussed strategies an invader might use around a map just like this one, talked with Soren and Robin and Saias about which areas were most vulnerable to attack as they and Alfonse had desperately tried to come up with a defense against the onslaught of the dead. The initial attack at the closest point, the next at others near enough to not strain supply lines but also keep the defenders from being able to reach them in time. Then pressing deeper into the country, aiming to disrupt the enemy’s supply lines and crush their moral. No army could fight when it couldn’t eat.

This was ridiculous. Why would it play out like an invasion? Perhaps all the time at war had left that sort of road map on Alfonse’s mind, even if he didn’t quite realize it. No one was getting invaded. Askr was being restored, not razed. They were just thinking of bad memories, which is why it made their stomach twist unpleasantly. Besides, there was no guarantee that it would keep looking like that. They could pick out the next likely targets of an invasion well enough, but they weren’t necessarily the same as what would be the best choice for restoring the country. They didn’t need that fort over there, that was a military instillation and they had no bandit problems as of yet, not with the constant influx of supplies. The trade town would be a better choice, for the mobility of goods and supplies.

A week later, when they found themselves arranging supplies for the knights in the fortress, they couldn’t get what they’d noticed out of their mind. Nor when they managed to predict the next target, and the next. When they told Sharena and Bruno, they had simply exchanged confused and concerned looks. Sharena tried to cheer them up, telling them it was a good thing they could figure out where to go next without being told, because it let them plan ahead, but that didn’t quite manage to shake the dread from the room.

* * *

The good thing about having some of Askr’s knights back is that they had other people to help distribute supplies, keep tabs on things, and generally reassure the populace. Sharena and her sunny personality did a great deal to reassure people that things were turning for the better and they would be taken care of, but she could only be in one place at a time.

It also allowed the three of them to take a break, which they needed. The knights were thankfully very understanding - the commander had even insisted they take a couple of days off, and that they’d pass along anything they heard from Alfonse to them. The Summoner doubted Alfonse would even show himself to the rank-and-file knights, not with him looking, uh, _like that,_ but it was a nice gesture.

They’d realized they were in the general vicinity of the Order’s castle, and chose to go visit, just to see how things were doing. The Summoner in particular was eager to go, to try and figure out what had happened to all the Heroes. Alfonse had never said, but his silence when asked was telling. Besides, they would have been giving it their all to help if they were still around, so something must’ve happened. The Summoner sort of hoped they’d all gone home, where they didn’t have to suffer through everything, but they knew some of them would never have turned away from people in need of aid. But their orbs must’ve been somewhere, and the Order’s keep was the best place to look. The Breidablik might be there too, which would be a relief. It didn’t feel right, not having that weight on their hip.

They rode out, enjoying a slow, easy pace through the countryside. There were actually birds singing now - not quite as much as there should have been, certainly, but some had returned to the area, which was a relief all its own. The trip was an easy one, full of laughter and cheer. Things were looking up. They could almost forget about the dread that sank into their bones whenever they saw how Alfonse and Veronica looked now, or remembered that Hel was still out there, still a threat.

Of course, they couldn’t go for long without the lingering background doom reasserting itself _somehow,_ it seemed.

When they finally came upon the Order’s castle, they found it in ruins. It looked as if a great battle had been fought there, with the way the gates had been forced open. They all fell silent at the sight, taking it in, trying not to react too strongly, lest they spook the horses.

In truth…they had all expected this. The Order of Heroes was the greatest defense against Hel - of course she would have made sure to sack their home base, to do anything she could to make it harder for them to function. But expecting it, knowing it was probably true, was nothing like seeing it with their own eyes.

They approached carefully, leaving the horses to graze under a nearby tree, and entered. The gates were shattered, the courtyard destroyed. It was clear some kind of battle had taken place - the walls were full of cracks and scorch marks, the ground turned up with craters from great spells and barricades in various states of decay. Weeds had claimed just about everything - even the once well-traveled cobblestone path that lead to the great hall was coated in them, to the point where they had to walk slowly and carefully, so as not to get their feet tangled and trip. The grand doors to the great hall had been bashed in, leaving them hanging halfway on rusted hinges.

Looking at them, the Summoner realized that they could recall the exact sound they had made when they broke. They might have mentioned it to the others, but all they could really do was offer them reassurances that sounded hollow in the still air. Though Sharena’s hug was welcome, even more so when she dragged Bruno into it. Hugs were always welcomed. It helped them remember that whatever had happened, they had their friends with them here and now.

The hall was a musty ruin. Once proud banners rotted on the floor, the rods they had hung from in splinters. Doors were missing, stonework was blasted away, the rug was all but nonexistent. The fountain had crumbled, what was left of it now coated in mold. The notice board stood, the papers scattered and mildewing. The Summoner stepped over, glancing at one that had managed to stay pinned to the board. Something about a bound hero battle. They could hardly recall who it might have been with, or if it had even happened in the first place. Things had gone so wrong, that the normal affairs of the Order had quickly fallen by the wayside.

Sharena gasped, and they spun quickly, hand going for where the Breidablik should have been and finding nothing. The princess was kneeling by what used to be Feh’s perch - it had been snapped clean in two - and gathering something up in her arms. When the approached, the Summoner saw it was something white and fluffy and…familiar?

“Is that…”

“It’s Feh. It feels like she’s breathing, but only just. I guess she’s just come back?”

Bruno tugged his cape free of his shoulders and offered it to his friend. “Here. Wrap her in this.” Sharena was quick to do so, tucking the owl in the black and purple cloth so that they could barely see her face. Feh stirred, letting out a weak _whoo_ , and then went still save for her breathing. At least she was alive. They’d have to figure out a new nest for her, since she couldn’t stay here.

But first, they had the rest of the castle to explore.

The armory was empty - all the weapons and armor they might have had had been needed in the struggle against Hel. Most everything in the storerooms were unsalvageable, the kitchen trashed, and the corridor that would have taken them to the portal up to the aether keep had quite literally collapsed. The rooms that Heroes had once stayed in were in similar disarray - but not completely destroyed. They could still see some of the knick-knacks and tidbits their various Heroes had kept with them. They hadn’t even gotten a chance to take their things, that’s how suddenly everything had fallen apart. Something cold settled in the Summoner’s stomach. They hoped they’d get a chance to apologize to all of them. They doubted they would ever be able to make it up to them.

It wasn’t until they reached their own study that things took a turn for the better. At first it seemed like it was no different than the rest, wrecked and ruined. But something caught their eye, tucked away under an overturned bookcase. It was hard to see from the door, what with the way the table had been flipped — actually, now that they looked again, it seemed like the entire room was arranged specifically to keep someone from noticing that case — the same case they had once put their summoning orbs in. The climbed over the wreckage, trying to tug it free and finding it to be much, much heavier than they remembered it being. Bruno had to come help them haul it out, but once he did, they undid the magic locking it, just like Anna had showed them—

There, sitting in the case, were all the Heroes’ orbs. Ike and Chrom were right there, that one belonged to Princess Sakura, there was Raven’s and little Fae’s, Lukas’s almost rolled out and onto the floor as they began to dig through them, taking stock, trying to make sure that each and every one was there.

As far as they could tell, they were. Every Hero, tucked away in their study, waiting for them to return. If only they had the Breidablik! They would have revived the Heroes on the spot, hugged each and every one of them and apologized for everything, offered to send them home or begged them for help in bringing Zenith back from the brink. But their divine weapon was gone, and they had no idea where.

It didn’t stop them from turning around and wrapping Sharena and Bruno both in a tight hug, laughing all the while, vision blurring as their eyes watered. Finally, a discovery that made everything brighter, instead of instilling a sense of dread.

It took them nearly two hours to haul the case through the crumbling halls and overgrown courtyards, but they did it. They secured it to their horse, and then rode behind Bruno, giddy with relief.

They couldn’t wait to see Alfonse again - he’d know where the Breidablik was, and then maybe they could make things right.

* * *

“Alfonse?”

The prince hummed softly, indicating that he was listening. The two of them were relaxing under a tree, just inside the forest near the city the Summoner had been staying in. His visits were less and less frequent now, but he made sure to stay at least a day when he did come. To help him remember what he was fighting for, he said.

“What happened to the Breidablik?”

He shifted beside them, readjusting himself so he could look at them more fully. “I have it.”

“You…you do?”

“Mmhm. Did I not mention it before now? I held onto it for safekeeping.”

They shook their head. “No, you didn’t! You should have said something! I’ve been worrying myself sick, thinking that I’d lost it!”

“My apologies. I have it right here.” And sure enough, from somewhere under that cloak, Alfonse drew the familiar shape of the Breidablik. It had the same gold sheen as always, though the white metal had been dyed black by the rite they’d performed with Bruno. It still sparkled and glimmered as they reached for it, reacting to their presence, though. Something in their heart loosened, seeing it again. They’d not realized just how stressed its loss had made them until they saw it again.

“Can I have it back?”

Alfonse hesitated, brows furrowing with worry. And — was that terror in his eyes?

“Alfonse? What’s wrong?”

“I confess I am…reluctant to hand it over.” They sat up a little more, shifting to half lay on his chest, watching him expectantly for the rest of the explanation. “What if Hel can sense that you have it, and that the power of the Heart’s Rite still rests within it’s blessed metal? She tear this land apart until she—” he cut off.

“Alfonse?”

“—Until she ripped your soul out of your flesh herself,” he finished, voice tight, gaze distant. Like he was seeing something they couldn’t. Like he was lost in a memory.

They reached up to cup his face in their hand. “Alfonse? Alfonse, I’m right here. Hel doesn’t have me, I’m here with you.” They pressed a soft kiss to his chin. “Take a deep breath. I’m right here, it’s okay.”

His eyes slipped shut, and he took several exaggerated breaths, a shaking hand carding through their hair. They hummed a tune from home that had always helped them calm down, hoping it would do the same for him. After a moment, his eyes eased open, and he gave them a shaky smile. “My apologies. But I—I do not want to take that chance.”

“I understand,” they said without hesitation. And they did. Considering the sheer anxiety letting Alfonse go out there _without them_ gave them on the best of days, they couldn’t blame him for feeling similar. Especially when he’d apparently already seen them die once. They tucked themselves a little closer to him, to help further reassure him that they were here with him and they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. “But, if the power of the Heart’s Rite is still there…do we have to worry? About…the cost…”

“I don’t think so. The price has already been paid.” He tried to smile a little wider, but it shook too much to be anything but forced. “No one has died unexpectedly, right?”

“Not that I’ve heard of.”

“Than I think we’re alright. And thank all the gods for that.”

“Mmm.” They traced a finger up and down his jawline. He leaned into it slightly. “If the power is still there, and the price is paid…doesn’t that mean I could kill Hel once and for all?”

“…It does.”

“So…why don’t we go do that? Wouldn’t it make bringing everyone back that much easier, without having to worry about her finding out?”

Alfonse was silent for a long moment. “…I would rather we didn’t try.”

“What? Why?”

“Let’s say we do launch an assault. What if we fail? Even if we retreat before we can lose anyone-” here the fingers in their hair tightened, just slightly, “-she would know that we are a threat, and act against us. Askr is not ready for any sort of conflict, not even to defend itself for long enough for us to break through and finish this. And that’s assuming we get away unscathed. …She is unlikely to be willing to let you leave, were we to strike and fail.” His other arm reached to pull them just a little tighter against him.

“So…you want to wait until everyone’s revived and at full strength, just to be safe?”

He nodded. “Please. I…do not want a repeat of last time. If we go to kill Hel, I want us to have every advantage we possibly can.”

“That’s…understandable,” they admitted, “even if I did revive all the Heroes, we wouldn’t necessarily have the supplies to feed them all…” Ike and Effie alone could eat enough for a village each. And many of the others weren’t slouches, either.

Alfonse laughed, though it felt a little stilted. Understandably so. “This is true. But I promise, I will return it to you, once this is over. Is that acceptable?”

They gave him a smile. “Yeah. I can live with that.”

* * *

They really shouldn’t have been surprised that Anna bounced back faster than most everyone else did. For all she could get carried away with her zany money making schemes, Anna took her role as Commander of the Order of Heroes seriously and dedicated herself to it. Of course she would get back on her feet as quickly as she was able. There was work to be done.

The debrief they had with her was reassuring in its familiarity. Her inputs were shrewd as they ever were, especially when it came to the supply issue. Anna was a merchant born and bred, which meant that she knew more about how to transport goods and where they’d be most needed or wanted than most military types. That unique blend of skills was why the Summoner trusted her with the Order’s supplies and purse strings. …At least until the schemes came into play.

There were no schemes right now. Anna knew when she could be wacky, and when she needed to be serious. This was most certainly the latter.

After working through the issues at hand, and reviewing the plan as it stood, Anna had turned her concerns to the one thing they hadn’t covered - Alfonse and Veronica. Not how they were managing this miracle - the fact that nobody knew had been one of the first things they talked about - but the prince and princess themselves.

“Are you sure it’s okay to let them go alone? Even a single healer could make the difference between success and failure.”

“Believe me, Anna, I’ve tried to talk him into taking me with him, or a team, or _something._ He’s…insistent about going it alone. And if I push too far he gets really, really angry.”

“Angry? That’s unlike him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Alfonse angry at you. The closest he’d ever gotten was whenever you scared him half to death, and even then everyone could see it was worry, not anger.”

“I mean, it’s worry now, too. It’s just…a lot louder than it usually is? And more insistent? And occasionally involves punching walls…?” Saying it out loud didn’t make them feel any better about it. But it was all true, and they didn’t see any reason to hide it from Anna. Not like with Sharena. Anna would worry over him, sure, but she was a professional to the core. She’d temper her worries instead of letting them eat at her. And honestly? It did the Summoner good to talk to someone about it, to get another set of eyes on the problem. They reminded themselves to bring Bruno into the conversation at some point. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

“That’s…concerning.” Anna managed, frowning. “He wasn’t exactly stable after Sharena and Zacharias’s deaths. You saw that yourself.”

The Summoner nodded, remember the shredded room. How he’d torn it apart in grief and fury after he’d been told that the Heart’s Rite had taken his mother. That he - they - were the last hope what little was left of Askr had.

“Losing the rest of us couldn’t have made it any better. And Princess Veronica’s always been a bit…off, so I doubt this has made her any less likely to do something drastic than before.”

“Bruno says she’s been just as cagey and defensive about everything as Alfonse has,” the Summoner supplied, crossing their arms across their chest. “Maybe not as loud about it, but definitely as stubborn. And with accidental flares of magic instead of wall-punching.” They couldn’t really see Veronica punching a wall. Blowing a hole in one with a spell, sure, but not punching it. Not destructive enough.

Anna drummed her fingers on the table. “That’s not a good sign. We’ve worked together though so much, we know where we all stand with one another. Why can’t they trust us with this? I can understand Alfonse not wanting to risk you or Sharena, and Veronica not wanting to risk her brother, but to refuse _any_ help? Alfonse, at least, should know better.”

“Good luck getting that through his thick skull,” the Summoner drawled, unable to keep the frustration at the situation out of their voice. They loved Alfonse, they really did. But he was so damn stubborn sometimes! “You know how he was about losing people…all this just made it worse. But he doesn’t seem to get that none of us want to lose _him.”_

“Still. He knows better than to put his personal feelings over the mission. Or he _should.”_

“Good luck trying to remind him.” Again, their frustration bled through. “If you manage it, be sure to tell me how. We’ve been trying for eight months now, and he only gets more stubborn about it.”

Anna frowned. “Eight months…and he hasn’t let a single thing slip? Why could he possibly want to hide it from us for that long?”

“He says it’s because he doesn’t want us to follow him without him knowing. Not that we could.”

“You tried?” From the tone of her voice, Anna was proud of them for doing such. Probably because she would have done the same, to save Alfonse from his own stubborn fears.

“Of course I did!” The Summoner threw up their hands. “But Veronica uses a warp spell each time. A powerful one, too, from what Bruno was saying. And without any idea where she’s warping too, we can’t follow them.”

Anna’s frown deepened. “They really don’t want us to know what’s going on. And we haven’t heard anything from Princess Eir?”

“Not a thing. Alfonse says she’s helping them, but I haven’t seen any sign of it, and he hasn’t told us anything more than that she’s fine when we see them. No short messages from her, even though we’ve passed some for her to him. No details. Just 'she’s fine'.” They leaned on the table, glaring at the map like it had insulted them. “Honestly, he never really looks at me when he says those things. It’s like when he used to tell me an injury he got in a battle wasn’t bothering him that much, when I could see that it was. Like he’s just saying it to make me and everyone else feel better.”

Anna pursed her lips. “Taking extra care to cover their tracks and empty platitudes. Whatever it is they’re hiding from us, it feels like it’s something big, and something he knows none of us will take well.”

“Considering how badly we took his…appearance…” They shook their head, “I really don’t know how what he’s hiding is gonna be worse.”

“That’s what worries me,” Anna replied, tone grim.

* * *

“Mother!” Sharena launched herself at the figure in the bed, crying tears of joy.

Bruno and the Summoner stood back by the doorway, exchanging relieved smiles. Queen Henriette had finally been revived, which was a load off of their shoulders. With Alfonse constantly gone, Sharena had been the one all of Askr had looked to for hope, comfort, and guidance. It wasn’t that they thought their friend incapable of providing such - Sharena could cheer anyone up just by being there - but she had so little experience in supporting an entire country, figuring out what to prioritize when, how to reach the greatest amount of people, and she was already so distressed with everything going on with Alfonse. Having the Queen back would be a massive weight off of her shoulders. Even though it would take her some time to recover and ease back into her duties, just being able to ask for advice would do wonders for their friend. And for them, too, honestly. The Summoner wasn’t any more experienced in running a country than Sharena or Bruno were - a force of a few hundred was a start, but they had all been in one place!

“Sharena! I’m so glad you’re alright. It warms my heart to see you.” The Queen seemed completely unconcerned with the abrupt nature of the embrace, returning it with all her strength. She cradled her daughter’s head against the hollow of her throat, like she must have done many a time when Sharena had been little more than a toddler. There were tears, reassurances, kisses to her brow. Truly, a heartwarming reunion between mother and daughter.

After several minutes of this, the Queen glanced up and saw that they weren’t alone. And with a laugh, she beckoned the two of them to come closer. “Don’t stand there at the doorway like strangers! Come, sit! Tell me what’s been happening, dears.”

The Summoner did so with a laugh, sinking onto the bed beside Sharena. “It’s wonderful to see you too. I’m so glad my children have had your support through all of this.”

The Summoner ducked their head. “Wish I could’ve done a bit more.”

“You’ve stayed with them though the darkest of times and did your best. That’s the most anyone could ask of you.” Queen Henriette patted their shoulder fondly before turning up to Bruno, who had come closer, but still hovered out of arm’s reach. He was clearly still worried about his cursed bloodline, even though it hadn’t cropped up since he’d come back. “And who is this fine gentleman?”

“Mother, it’s Zacharias! Don’t you recognize him?”

“Oh, Zacharias! We’ve missed you! Forgive me, you’ve grown so much since I saw you last! Though it would be easier to recognize you if you didn’t wear a mask.”

“It’s good to see you as well, Your Majesty.” Bruno bowed slightly, smiling. “Forgive my rudeness, but I find I am much more comfortable with it on these days.”

“Always so formal! Come now, there’s no need for that!”

They all laughed, even as Queen Henriette teased the Summoner and Bruno both for being so shy. Everything seemed brighter, like war and death was a faraway thing.

At least, it was for a little while. “And where is Alfonse? Don’t tell me he’s overworking himself again!”

The laughter died almost instantly. The Summoner glanced between Sharena and Bruno, uncertain of how broach the subject.

“He’s…he’s busy. He’s been making sure everything goes smoothly.” Sharena began carefully.

Queen Henriette was no fool, she could tell that something was wrong with her son just by their reactions. “What happened? Is he…” She trailed off.

“He’s not dead,” the Summoner interjected quickly, and the Queen’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. They had to swallow a lump in their throat; it felt like they were lying. Was Alfonse still technically alive? That they didn’t have an answer wasn’t really helping them feel better about this. “He’s just…not here.”

“He and Veronica are responsible for everyone’s revival,” Bruno added quietly, “they are away ensuring that everyone is rescued from Hel’s clutches.”

Henriette frowned, a serious expression crossing her normally cheerful continence. “I think you all had better start from the beginning.”

They did, explaining the general gist of what had happened from their awakening in the crypts. They might have glossed over Alfonse’s changed appearance a bit, but they didn’t want to be the one to tell a mother that her son’s spine and ribcage was visible through his chest cavity. She was clearly worried enough about him, they didn’t need to be making it worse! Neither Sharena or Bruno seemed to be of the mind to add that detail either, so at least it wasn’t only them.

Though from the looks the Queen was giving them, they figured she knew they were keeping something from her. But thankfully, she didn’t press.

“And how did Alfonse and Princess Veronica get the power to revive the dead?” She asked when they were done, worry crinkling her brow.

They all glanced at each other. “We don’t know. Alfonse won’t say,” Sharena replied, fiddling with her hands.

Queen Henriette’s frown deepened. “That power is beyond even the royalty of Zenith. To revive the dead is to trespass into the domain of the Gods. Only the Breidablik gives such an ability to a mortal.”

“And even then, only in certain circumstances,” the Summoner nodded, kicking a foot out in frustration. “But people _are_ coming back. We’ve seen it. So they must have gotten the power from _somewhere.”_

“That’s what worries me.” Henriette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she thought. “For them to have such a power…there must have been a price. I worry for what that might have been. Alfonse always has rushed in without thinking things through…he might not even realize just how much he’s paid for this chance.”

“…He’d say it was worth it,” the Summoner replied dully, “in fact he already _has_ said that several times.”

Henriette sighed. “That boy…I hope he hasn’t done something too terribly foolish…”

“He’ll be okay!” Sharena pipped up, forcing cheer into her tone. “Askr and Embla are both mostly on their feet again, and he said Nifl and Múspell would follow soon! So he’s got this under control! We just have to believe in him and Princess Veronica!”

“You’re right, Sharena,” Queen Henriette smiled slightly, “we should trust in Alfonse. I know he has our wellbeing at heart. And Princess Veronica no doubt is as concerned for her own people. Though…did they tell you how they’re avoiding Hel’s notice?”

“No. They refuse to say. They insist that they don’t want us to know, lest we attempt to follow them and put ourselves in danger,” Bruno’s voice was mildly annoyed. He had not liked how his sister had insisted on protecting him; doubtless he was used to it being the other way around.

The Queen’s frown returned. “I do hope they’re being careful. Hel’s power comes from the lives she takes. If they are taking them back, they are weakening her…and there is no way she would ever stand for that.”

* * *

They hadn’t been expecting Alfonse back for a couple of days, so when they heard his voice calling their name from somewhere behind them, they couldn’t help but just and let out a bit of a shriek. Just a little one. In their defense, it was the middle of the night, and they were only up because they’d had a nightmare and wanted to clear their head with a walk. Anyone would shriek when approached suddenly in such circumstances! Whirling around, they prepared to tell him off for spooking them so, only to stop before they began.

Cradled in his arms was the limp form of Princess Eir.

Any irritation at Alfonse’s abrupt entrance disappeared when they saw that. They were dashing forward before they’d even really thought about it, questions falling out one after another. “What happened? Is she hurt? Are you hurt? Where’s Veronica, is she okay? Were you attacked, do we need to prepare a defense, I can sound the alarm right away—”

“Love, calm down! Calm down.” Alfonse’s tone was soothing, and mildly amused. He wasn’t worried, so they probably weren’t about to be under attack. The Summoner did as they were told, taking a couple deep breaths and trying to slow their racing heart. “We’re not under attack. I am fine. Veronica is outside, she’s tending to Kara. We’re perfectly safe; we made doubly sure that no one was on our trail before coming here. Please, calm down.”

“What happened to Eir?”

They couldn’t see Alfonse’s face behind that stupid creepy mask, but they could tell that his smile had turned rueful just by the way his brow furrows and how he shifted _just so._ “We slipped up. Eir was helping us avoid Hel’s attention, but it seems Hel got suspicious and turned on her.” The Summoner felt a lump in her throat. They remembered what Eir had told them painfully well, about all of the lives she’d once had. They didn’t want to think of how Hel would end this final one after finding out about her daughter’s betrayal. It wouldn’t be anything kind. They weren’t even sure it would be swift. Hel was…cruel, like that. “I think Hel was planning on using her against us? As a spy? Or perhaps it was her idea of punishment. I don’t know. But when Veronica and I found them, Hel was in the process of erasing Eir’s memories.”

“Erasing them? Why would she bother with that?” The Summoner couldn’t wrap their head around it. Surely Hel would have killed Eir, or maybe tortured her and then killed her, and had done with it? Something wasn’t adding up here. And…why wouldn’t Alfonse look them directly in the eye?

“That’s what Veronica said. She knows more of magic than I do.” Alfonse shrugged - or at least, his shoulder raised just slightly, so as not to upset Eir any further. “I can’t fathom why Hel would do that any more than you can. But we couldn’t leave her, so we rescued her.”

_“…How?”_ To pull someone out from under Hel’s very nose, without losing anyone, and then getting away without getting tailed…that seemed impossible. Every encounter they’d had with Hel, they’d lost someone. Every single encounter, without fail. Hel was just…that powerful.

“I’ll tell you later. First, is there a place Eir can rest? Hel wasn’t kind, and the soldiers that apprehended her did not seem to see a need to be gentle with their princess.” There was an undercurrent of anger in his voice, but that wasn’t surprising. Alfonse never did like it when people harmed others without reason.

“Oh, right, sorry, this way!” They turned on their heel, racing off to a room they knew was available. They took care to avoid the common patrol routes - explaining Alfonse’s appearance would take far too long and way, way too much effort, so they’d rather avoid that if at all possible. The people of Askr would likely panic if they found out their prince was kinda sorta maybe dead, only not really, and - it would be a mess. Much easier to just avoid people and never speak of it to anyone.

A few minutes of silent running, and finally there they were! In a nice empty room. The Summoner hurried to get the fire started as Alfonse went about tucking Eir into the bed. Poor girl really did look like she’d had a bad time. The Summoner hoped she would be okay.

“So Veronica is out with Kara? Is she okay?” Kara was Eir’s pegasus. A gentle thing, for all it was dead. The Summoner actually thought she was cute. And very pretty, with that spectral coat.

“She’s in better shape than Eir is, but only just.” Alfonse sighed. “It’s okay, though. Veronica has been studying some healing magic, or so she’s told me. I’d still send someone to look at her in the morning, though.”

The Summoner nodded, before hesitating just slightly. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay, Alfonse?”

“Of course I’m sure. Why do you ask?”

“I just…Hel was so powerful that we never really could manage a flawless victory. How did you…how did you manage it, Alfonse?”

“To be fair, we did much more running that we did fighting. Veronica used her magic to cause a distraction, and then while Hel was preoccupied with it, I cut Kara free, grabbed Eir, and ran. Kara is smart enough that she knew to follow, and Veronica handled keeping her calm after we regrouped. From there, it was a lot of running.”

“…It’s not like you to be so vague,” The Summoner ventured, carefully.

Alfonse sighed, this a bit more frustrated. “That really is all there was to it. A lot of running and hiding. You remember what that’s like; it’s similar to how things were when we were traveling through Múspell.”

The Summoner frowned. Lowered their gaze to the floor. “Then why won’t you look me in the eye?”

“Have I not been?” Alfonse seemed genuinely shocked by the question. “My apologies. I must be more tired than I’d thought.” And then he closed the distance, arm wrapping around their shoulders. “I’m sorry, my love. I know how much this must worry you. Why don’t we sit by the fire, like we used to, while we wait? I suspect Eir will sleep for a while longer.”

They nodded, glancing back up. Alfonse met their gaze, red-brown eyes warm and fond. That…was more like him. So they settled themselves by the fire, curled up with their prince. He made sure they were closer to the fireplace, likely to fight the chill he exuded.

They talked. About how things were going in Askr, and how relations with Embla were. About how long it would be until he could come home and stay. He was pleased to hear that his mother had welcomed Bruno so openly, and even more so when he heard that the current Empress was eager to work with Askr to bring both countries back from the brink. Nifl has also started to return, with Hríd’s people working with Emblan mages to ensure enough food found its way north before next winter. They were starting to set up the framework for Múspell’s return, as well. “It feels like peace might finally be coming,” he said, voice wistful. The Summoner could understand that feeling. They had not know a true peace since they’d come here, and didn’t they all deserve it after what they’d just been through? Everyone in Zenith had seen enough war for a thousand lifetimes. It was time for peace. For a change of pace, if nothing else.

They hoped this peace would last.

There was just one big concern. “Alfonse, what if Hel comes to kill us again? She’ll notice eventually, right?”

He pressed his face - mask free, thankfully - into their hair. “Don’t worry. I have a plan for dealing with Hel.”

* * *

When Eir woke up, she was confused and distraught. When she laid eyes on the Summoner, she’d begun to cry without knowing why. When she saw Alfonse, she’d flinched away, and cowered until the Summoner had reassured her that it was him and she was safe.

They worried for their friend. Eir had already suffered so, so much. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to suffer any more.

“You died,” Eir had said, voice shaking, “didn’t you? Run through—” she cut herself off with a quiet sob.

“It’s alright, Eir, they’re not dead. Take a deep breath.” Alfonse shushed her, just a bit of force behind his words. Eir tried to say something else, but he shushed her more insistently, eyes narrowing just slightly. The crease in his brow - something was…angering him?

The Summoner rubbed comforting circles on Eir’s back, frowning. They could understand Alfonse being angry at his friend being in pain, but why would he be directing that anger at her? He must be tired.

Or he was hiding something. His gaze had flicked to them, just a moment, when he’d thought they weren’t looking. Was he angry because Eir was asking after their death? Doubtless Alfonse didn’t want to upset them with something like that; not to mention the pain the memory must bring him! Still. Eir had every right to be distressed.

But…run through? That…didn’t sound right. Some part of them remembered it, a part that liked to dreg it up in the middle of the night when they should have been sleeping. The feel of some blade parting flesh, carving through bone - but not piercing.

Of course, just because their nightmares weren’t like that didn’t mean that’s how it actually went. And the way Alfonse kept glancing at them, like he was waiting for them to ask about it, made them uneasy. He really didn’t want them to go there, huh? They wouldn’t. Why would they want to hear about their own death at the hands of Hel?

…They had no proof that Hel was the one that had killed them, but now that the thought crossed their mind, they couldn’t shake the certainty. Hel’s scythe had carved through them, reaped the life from their body. They could almost feel the blade across their skin.

They also knew that dwelling on it was just going to make them feel worse, which would make Alfonse and especially Eir feel terrible, too. So they set the thought aside and began to tell Eir about how Sharena was doing, hopefully to help her calm down and feel better.

It didn’t seem to work. At the sound of Sharena’s name, Eir’s sobs only grew louder.

They looked helplessly at Alfonse, and he shook his head, mouth a thin line, eyes just slightly glowing red.

* * *

“Eir, do you have any idea how this is happening? Any at all?” Alfonse had left once more, which meant now was the time to be asking questions. Eir was still shaky, distraught, like she’d lost something important, but she couldn’t remember what had happened to her. They couldn’t imagine it was anything good - she’d had bruises and small cuts, and Kara was similarly beaten up and distraught. Whatever Hel had done to punish her for her betrayal, it must’ve been bad.

But, even without her recent memories, Eir was still the princess of Hel. She still might know something, and the Summoner couldn’t just ignore that. She was up and about now, and had assured them she was okay to talk, so they were taking her at her word.

She frowned, shaking her head just slightly, so as not to inconvenience Sharena’s attempts to do her hair. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything like this ever happening before. When Mother takes a realm, she does not give it back.”

“Alfonse implied that they were stealing our lives back from under her nose,” Bruno leaned against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest. “Is that possible?”

“I don’t see how. Mother guards her power jealously. Each life is accounted for. I cannot see how they would manage to escape her notice, especially in their current states.”

“Current states? You mean their skeletal appearance, yes?” The Summoner could imagine Bruno’s eyes narrowing behind his mask.

“There’s a reason they look like Hel, isn’t there,” they added, softer, arms reaching to wrap around their middle. This was not going anywhere good.

Eir looked between the four of them - Anna, all business but worrying the corner of the paper at the desk in front of her seemingly without noticing; Bruno, trying to feign stoicism but too tense to be convincing in it; Sharena, hands shaking just slightly as she combed the tangle out of Eir’s silvery locks; the Summoner, face shadowed by their hood and shoulders hunched, the very picture of anxiety. She glanced down, clearly pained by their distress, but not knowing how to alleviate it. All she could do was tell them the truth. The Summoner appreciated that; they don’t think they could have stood for a white lie or comforting deflection. Alfonse had been giving them enough of those to last a lifetime. “When someone joins Mother’s army, they typically retain the same appearance they did in life, for the most part.”

“…Like with Father,” Sharena murmured.

“Yes. To be so changed…to be remade in her image, they would have to receive a great deal of power from Mother herself.” Eir smoothed her dress out, despite the fact that there was hardly a wrinkle in the skirts. “Only her greatest generals, her champions, are given such a blessing.”

The words were like a knife of cold through the air. The Summoner hadn’t felt this kind of chill since they’d first seen Alfonse in the crypts. “So…there’s no way Hel doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

“…Yes.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them as it sunk in. Hel must know about them. Then…Hel likely knew that Alfonse had the Breidablik, didn’t she? She wouldn’t just allow this without knowing where the weapon that could kill her was, and doubtless she’d never let it get into the hands of the one that could use it. And…and he knew that, too, which is why he had neglected to even mention the thing until they’d brought it up, and refused to return it. It explained why they didn’t want anyone following them, either - none of them would have been willing to work with Hel, not for any reason. What was going to keep her from coming and killing them all over again eventually? Why would she ever agree to turn a blind eye?

“What could they be _thinking?”_ Anna bit out, grimacing. “Hel killed us all. Why would they ever work with the person that murdered everyone they love? Or trust that she would keep her end of the bargain? They’re smarter than that!”

“That doesn’t make sense, though.” Sharena’s protest was small. “Even if…even if Alfonse and Veronica _would_ help Hel, she would lose power from letting us come back to life, wouldn’t she? Why would she ever agree to that? Mother said she wouldn’t.”

“The Queen is correct. Mother would not.”

“If she is not losing power, perhaps somehow she gains it from all of this?” Bruno mused, expression grim.

“How can she be getting power from people coming back from the dead?” The Summoner replied, similarly concerned. “If everyone was undead, I could understand, but we all seem pretty alive to me…”

He considered this, hand coming to his chin as he turned the problem over in his mind. “If she is not losing power, and not gaining it…that would mean she is at least breaking even, somehow.”

“How would she manage that?” Sharena was beginning to look mildly ill. The Summoner was feeling queasy themselves. They knew where this was going. They were pretty sure Sharena did too, she just didn’t want to be the one to admit it.

“A life for a life,” Eir replied, solemn. “For every life here that Mother loses, she gains another from somewhere else.”

“From somewhere else…where?” Sharena asked. “It can’t be from Zenith. Everyone…everyone here died.”

“…It can’t be from our Zenith, no,” The Summoner hated the words they were saying, that this thought had even crossed their mind, “but there’s others, right? Other worlds. It must be from one of them. And…if-if Alfonse and Veronica are the ones bringing everyone back, like they say they are, then-then that means they…they’re…” They trailed off, a lump in their throat. They hated this. They hated thinking it, they couldn’t say it, they couldn’t make it real like that. They couldn’t imagine Alfonse, _their_ Alfonse, their beloved prince, doing something so horrible. Even towards the end, when there were few if any people left, he had not so much as considered something so desperate. What had the pain done to him? How long had he and Veronica been alone with their suffering?

“Then they’re the ones taking the lives of that other world, to balance those scales. And Hel allows it because she gains two powerful new generals.” Bruno said it for them, the words distressingly final, like a coffin lid slamming shut.

* * *

“So. How are we to handle this?”

The Summoner’s shoulders slumped, an annoyed sound rumbling from their chest. “How should I know? I get the feeling that if we just come out and say it, they’re gonna get defensive. But I don’t know that dancing around the subject is gonna go any better. Alfonse isn’t an idiot, he’ll figure it out before either of us spit it out, and wouldn’t that just give him the time to come up with some other convincing lie?”

“You assume he will lie if he finds we have pieced together the truth,” Bruno replied, sinking into a chair, movements screaming of weariness. They were all tired. “He may admit to it, and merely justify himself. Veronica would certainly be inclined to do just that. She is not a talented lair, but she is quick to attempt to convince me of the validity of her thinking.”

The Summoner flopped into another chair, planting their elbows on the table and burying their face in their hands. “What do we even say to that? ‘Hey, we know you just literally saved us all, but you shouldn’t have, it was a bad call?’ Even right now that sounds like a buncha bull. I’m pretty grateful that I’m alive again, but—”

“You, like the rest of us who know, feel guilty at the cost. Wonder if your life is really worth more than someone else’s.” Bruno nodded, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. This was probably the least formal they’d ever seen him, and they’d seen him confined to bedrest. “It is a difficult enough reality to make peace with on the battlefield, but here—”

“—It’s not necessarily just soldiers that are on the chopping block,” they finished. “Hel doesn’t care if her victims signed up to put their lives on the line or not. And if she doesn’t, why would- why would her generals?” Their voice was bitter as they spit the words out. It still hurt to say it. Even discounting the cost of their revival, there was that sense of _betrayal_ that came with it. Hel had _murdered_ them, and Sharena, and King Gustav, and Alfonse had _still_ made a deal with her. Even if it was to save them, it _stung._ What an unreasonable feeling. Even with all his evasiveness, they could tell there was no love lost between Alfonse and Hel.

“A moral quandary, to be sure.” Bruno’s lips twitched into a humorless smile - he had caught the meaning behind the tone. They wondered if he felt similarly betrayed. He’d literally died to stop Hel, even if he hadn’t realized he’d been signing his own death warrant at the time. He’d known Sharena since he was a child. Still, Hel had not ravaged Embla personally. Not like the Heart’s Rite had.

“Yeah. Especially since…” they trailed off. Bruno made a curious sound, beckoning them to continue with his hand. The Summoner sighed. “…When we did the Heart’s Rite, we didn’t know what the cost was. But…once we figured it out, I didn’t stop to consider reversing it. Not once. I told myself that if that was what it took to beat Hel, than that’s what we had to do. I was willing to give up all the lives in Zenith just to bring her down. And I failed to even do that.” They scowled. It hurt to think they had sacrificed that much and had nothing to show for it. Nothing to show but the view of the ribs in their prince's chest, the unnatural red light that his eyes gave off. They had killed everyone in Zenith with nary a second thought, and what had it done but condemned two people they’d been trying so hard to protect to a suffering they wouldn’t have wished on their worst enemy? “Do I even have the right to confront Alfonse about this? When I was just as willing to do anything to win?”

They heard the rustling of cloth as Bruno shifted, felt his hand clasp their shoulder gently. “If it is of any comfort to you…I had a suspicion of what the Heart’s Rite would cost. I had done plenty of research on the subject, after all - once I truly started to learn of its intricacies, every text had a grave warning. And I ignored each and every one. I am as much to blame for this as you.”

The words hung in the air. They weren’t comforting, exactly - nothing about what they had done could ever be called _comforting_ \- but still, they did feel slightly better for it. At least someone else understood. There was something to be said for that.

After a moment of just…sitting, the weight of their choices stifling conversation, the Summoner lifted their head from their hands and sought out Bruno’s gaze. “Hey, Bruno? Answer me honestly. If…if the roles had been switched. If you and I were the ones that survived, and Alfonse and Veronica had died. Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same thing? Damned a world of strangers if it meant you could have them back?”

Bruno’s mouth set into a grim line. “…No. I cannot say I would have acted differently. Not truthfully.” His head tilted, that humorless smile returning. “And you?” he asked, even though he clearly knew the answer already.

“…I’d’ve taken the offer,” the Summoner said, the words poison on their tongue. But oh, how true they were! “I lost everything once, when I first came to Askr. I couldn’t stand to lose it again. If my choice was everyone here or a hundred other worlds, I’d chose here, every single time.”

“Perhaps therein lies the source of Veronica and Alfonse’s frustration,” Bruno posited, still holding their shoulder in a show of support. “I would wager they both know us well enough to know that truth. Perhaps their anger is not at us for wanting to know, but for us acting as if we would not make the same choice.”

The Summoner laughed. It rang hollow between them. Nothing about this was funny. “You may well be right. Nobody likes dealing with a hypocrite.”

* * *

“I’m back.”

The phrase took them by surprise - but not as much as the sight they were met with when they turned to see who had spoken. There was Alfonse, only…they couldn’t see his ribs anymore. He was wearing a battered old set of armor in the white and gold of Askr - it took them a moment to recognize it as the armor he’d been wearing on that last incursion into Hel’s domain. He was still a bit too pale, but he didn’t look _dead_ , not like he had. The horrible mask was gone, letting them see the curl of his smile.

When they threw themselves at him in an embrace, he was _warm._ Well, warm _er_. Cooler than a normal person, but not the horrible chill of a corpse.

They stood there for a few minutes, clinging to him, face buried in the crook of his neck. They could feel his heartbeat. It seemed too slow, too lethargic to belong to someone properly alive, but it was there. Last time they had seen him, there hadn’t been a heart in his chest. They knew because they could see the space where it would have been.

Alfonse laughed, clearly pleased with the reception. He wrapped his arms around them in turn, pulling them as close as he could, face burying itself in their hair. “I take it you missed me?”

“What give it away?” they were proud that their voice didn’t crack over the words.

He laughed. “Oh, it was just a suspicion I had. But as much as I’d love to just stand here and hold you for a while, we are going to have to put this on hold for a while. Sharena will never forgive either of us if we dawdle out here for too long, and Veronica has already gone ahead.”

The Summoner grumbled. “Fine. But you owe me cuddles later!” They pulled away, looking up to meet Alfonse’s gaze.

His eyes were still brown.

Something about their expression must have changed, because Alfonse’s face became concerned. “Love? Something wrong?”

They took a deep breath. “…We need to talk.”

Their prince’s brows furrowed, his expression darkening just a bit. He said their name, his tone a warning.

They ignored it. “Alfonse. Please. Stop-stop running from me. We _need_ to talk about this. Everyone might be back, but Hel’s still a problem.” She wouldn’t just _let_ Alfonse and Veronica go. There was no way. How was she keeping hold over them? The slow heartbeat and the cooler than normal temperature - was Hel keeping Alfonse in some sort of weird in-between state? Something not quite living, but not really dead? …What would happen to him if they killed her? “I can’t make plans to keep us all safe if I don’t know what I’m dealing with. _Please._ ”

Alfonse stared, face set in stone, before he let out a long sigh. “You are right. We will talk. Later.”

“…I’m holding you to that, Alfonse.” They tried to convey how serious about this they were with their tone. He wasn’t getting out of this. “You said you had a plan to deal with Hel. Well, I want in. We’re doing this _together,_ you hear me?” And they were getting some kind of answers. They didn't know what good it would do them, to hear the truth from his mouth. They didn't know what they would say, how they would handle it. But they couldn't run from this. And neither could he.

A smile slowly curled onto his face. It was night and day compared to the one he’d worn when they’d first embraced him - all sharp edges and murder, like he was planning exactly how to pick someone apart piece by bloody piece. It was unsettling how natural it looked on him now. It never would have seemed to fit before. “Don’t worry, Love. I wouldn’t dare keep this from you.”

His eyes were glowing red.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not ask me how long this has been in the works. Just. Trust me when I say it has been a whiiiiiile.
> 
> Full disclosure: Ending it there is kinda sorta a cop-out on my part. I couldn't decide how the confrontation would go, nor exactly how well dealing with Hel would end. So. Like. Yeah. You get that instead! And I get to beat the plot bunny for taking this into book 4 into submission with a two-by-four. You have all of a vague idea and one and a half conversations, brain, we are NOT jumping into that when you've got other stuff you need to finish!
> 
> Hi! Not dead. Depression is a bitch. Hope everyone's taking care of themselves!


End file.
